


How to Build an Impossible Family

by The_Bentley



Series: Best of Both Worlds [2]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Anal Sex, Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Bathing/Washing, Because I Write a Lot of Whump and I Wanted To Write Fluff Dammit, Blow Jobs, Break Up, Bullying, Comfort, Crowley Has A Vulva (Good Omens), Crowley Has Long Hair (Good Omens), Crowley is Good With Kids (Good Omens), Cuddling & Snuggling, Depression, Domestic, Domestic Bliss, Established Relationship, Eventual Smut, Family, Fluff, Forced Orgasm, Friendship, Gen, Getting Back Together, God Ships Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens), Hair Braiding, Hair Washing, Hand Jobs, Healing, Hellhounds, I'm Not That Much Of A Bastard, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), Ineffable Idiots (Good Omens), Kidnapping, Light Bondage, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Male-Female Friendship, Marriage, Mental Link, Mild Blood, Minor Character Death, Missing Persons, Oral Sex, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Parent-Child Relationship, Psychological Trauma, Rough Sex, Separations, Sex, Sick Crowley (Good Omens), Slow Build, Smoking, Soft Aziraphale (Good Omens), Soft Crowley (Good Omens), Wing Grooming, Wings, it's temporary
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-04
Updated: 2020-08-04
Packaged: 2021-02-27 08:47:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 28
Words: 116,121
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22114357
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Bentley/pseuds/The_Bentley
Summary: Angels and demons aren't supposed to reproduce, but it happened even though parenting was never on Aziraphale and Crowley's radar. But that's not their only challenge. Friends and family are two concepts that are being redefined for the husbands as they face the challenges brought on by developing close friendships and raising a child of their own. They might be immortal, but they've chosen a human life, peppered with supernatural happenings. They must trust their love for each other will help them through everything. The spell that enabled Crowley's pregnancy has side effects that cause him to lapse into a postpartum coma. Lailah, who has been their friend through trying times is persecuted by other angels who view her as a traitor. And Crowley and Aziraphale's marriage starts to break down when Aziraphale feels left out of important events in Rowan's life thanks to running the bookshop while Crowley starts to burn out from constantly being at home.  But nothing prepared them for the hellhound . . .The Rape/Non Con content is in Book Two in an implied form.  The rest of it doesn't require archive warnings.  Some tags are for future chapters.
Relationships: Adam Young & Original Child(en) of Aziraphale and Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale & Crowley & Original Child(ren) of Aziraphale and Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale & Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale & Crowley (Good Omens) & Original Female Character(s), Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens), Original Child(ren) of Aziraphale and Crowley (Good Omens) & Original Female Character(s), Raphael (Good Omens) & Original Character(s), The Them & Adam Young (Good Omens)
Series: Best of Both Worlds [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1545178
Comments: 221
Kudos: 445





	1. Book 1: After Effects

**Author's Note:**

> I'm doing this one a little bit differently. It's going to be separate stories (the books) in a large context. It'll be the same cast of main characters and all the books will be connected through the themes of family and love. 
> 
> Ok, just so this doesn't look like some kind of horribly Britpicked piece, Lailah's dialect is American while Aziraphale and Crowley's is obviously British English. So narratives may switch between the two vernaculars depending on whose point of view is being expressed. I'll try to keep the American to narratives where Lailah is alone.
> 
> Corrections made to Beelzebub's pronouns. I mistakenly used "she/her" in a few places and corrected that. (I was sitting there idly thinking what else I've seen Anna Maxwell Martin in while I was writing and I should never think of two things at once while working on my fics because suddenly the wrong pronouns bleed into it.) It should be consistent now.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Yet here they were, protected from harassment by God Herself, caring for a child neither of them even dreamed would ever exist. They were not of a species meant to reproduce. But so far they had taken quite well to their little surprise addition, already showing her much love and devotion in the few days it had been since her birth._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ~*~*~
> 
> Chapter 1: Lullaby
> 
> ~*~*~

They had been parents now for a grand total of three days and were now spending their first night in London alone with Rowan. Lailah, who had been such a big help while they were still at the cottage, had had to return to her duties in Heaven for now, but had promised to visit often. She had fallen in love with her new “niece” and developed a close friendship with both Aziraphale and Crowley.

They lay in bed spooning, getting what rest they could before the newborn would wake them, requiring another feeding. Crowley slept soundly, wrapped up tightly around Aziraphale, who just dozed on and off, occasionally trying to scoot into a more comfortable position. The care and feeding of a touch-starved demon could be quite demanding. 

The rather loud cry of the infant in the next room brought his eyes back open after what seemed like only a few seconds of rest. He poked at his husband, getting only a groan in response.

“Crowley.”

“Mmm . . .”

“Wake up, my dear. You said you’d take this turn with Rowan.”

Crowley yawned and stretched, one snake-like demon unraveling himself from his angel. “Oh yeah . . . I did. Ok. On it.”

He slid out of bed, heading out into the hallway, eyes barely open. Aziraphale watched him go.

“Don’t forget the bottle!”

Raising a hand, a bottle appeared in it as he shuffled out to the door to the nursery. Aziraphale stayed awake to listen over the nursery monitor. There was something very sweet about how Crowley had completely taken to parenthood.

Crowley entered Rowan’s room which was all done up like the Garden of Eden, complete with a small painting of her angel parent shielding her demon parent with his wing on Eden’s wall just behind her cot. Padding across the plush, grass-coloured carpet, Crowley picked the infant up, comforting her for a moment before seating himself in the nearby rocking chair, cradling her carefully.

“Here you go. Eat up.” 

The crying stopped as Rowan registered the bottle’s nipple brushing her lips. She drank down its contents hungrily. Crowley rocked as he looked upon her with a tender smile.

“You don’t need to act too human, you know. Maybe keep the sleeping up, but eat only during the daytime? I really do like my rest.” 

She was so small. So seemingly insignificant in the greater view of the universe, but looks could be deceiving. Heaven and Hell themselves were willing to go to war against her parents for the right to raise her as the replacement for the Antichrist. She was a child who shouldn’t exist – literally born of the union between an angel and a demon, a hybrid who was technically impossible.

Rowan only took a bit of formula as she always did, since she was such a tiny being. She eventually stopped sucking, pulling off the bottle’s nipple and yawning. Crowley peered at the bottle. The baby had drank a couple of ounces or quite a few mililitres according to the markings on it. He didn’t know for sure what measurement was the correct one. Measurements were still a mix of systems around here and he wasn’t exactly someone who paid attention of any of them except miles per hour.

The kid was full, that was what mattered. Aziraphale was fussier about it, keeping track exactly how much she drank. He probably noted it in the correct measurement as well.

“Shall we get you changed?”

Getting up from the rocking chair, he placed her on the changing table and unswaddled her for the blanket she was wrapped in. She complained at such an intrusion, her skin reddening with her crying as she jerkily wiggled her curled-up arms and legs. 

“Sorry. Had to see if you wet through everything.” Crowley wrapped her blanket around her snugly, changing her nappy with a thought since doing it by hand was unthinkable. “You don’t have to spend all your time rolled up in a ball, either. You have room to stretch out now.”

He looked thoughtfully at her a moment with her closed eyes, scrunched-up face and wispy strawberry blonde hair before picking her up to cuddle her against his chest. Life had taken such a strange turn. Children were barely a blip on his radar at all until nine months ago when the impossible happened. 

Heaven and Hell wanted a replacement Antichrist to restart their war, this time the two sides teaming up against humanity. Their scheming involved a spell to create a demon-angel hybrid who could command the Horsepersons in lieu of the Antichrist. Such a creation could show them both Heaven and Hell once again agreed to go to war, as required to commence it.

So one untried fertility spell later, Crowley found himself presenting female, unable to change form and pregnant with Aziraphale’s child. Only God’s wrath had kept the two Realms from taking their child to use as an instrument of war.

Yet here they were, protected from harassment by God Herself, caring for a child neither of them even dreamed would ever exist. They were not of a species meant to reproduce. But so far they had taken quite well to their little surprise addition, already showing her much love and devotion in the few days it had been since her birth.

“Shhh, it’s ok, Rowan.” He bounced lightly on the balls of his feet, cradling her on his shoulder, softly singing a lullaby to her. The crying slowed until it completely stopped with a hiccup and a soft “ah.” 

Crowley felt inadequate for this responsibility. He was a demon; he had worked over the millennia to spread misery because that was his job, even though he had spent more time figuring out how get by with not having to do his job than actually performing it. Aziraphale had also pointed out to him he certainly wasn’t the worst thing to come out of Hell, even if he had trouble believing he had a nice side. But was someone who found causing traffic jams funny really the right person to be raising a child? He still wondered about his capabilities even though his days of having to implement acts of mischief to keep Hell from breathing down his neck were behind him. 

Carefully he put their daughter back in her cot, hoping he didn’t jostle her awake setting her gently on the mattress. He paused a moment over the sleeping infant. Nothing. She was back to deeply asleep, her belly full.

In their bedroom Aziraphale lay with his eyes closed listening to the one-sided conversation with a smile on his lips. It wasn’t long after it ended that he felt a puff of cold air on his skin as the blankets were moved aside and the mattress sink a bit as Crowley rejoined him. He rolled over to lay on his husband’s chest, tangling a hand in his long hair. Crowley shifted slightly so he could snake an arm around Aziraphale’s shoulders.

“It sounds like that went rather smoothly this time,” Aziraphale mumbled sleepily. 

“It’s all a trap. All we have to do is change nappies, feed her and rock her to sleep. It’s to lull us into thinking we’re good at this parenting thing, then we’ll start having to deal with real problems. Like keeping her from putting everything in her mouth and suddenly she’s a teenager who hates us because we won’t allow her to date boys. Not for the normal human reasons but you try explaining the whole ‘he’s mortal, it’s just not going to work out’ deal to her.”

“She’s three days old. I don’t think we need to concern ourselves with babyproofing or how to deal with mortals just yet.” Aziraphale kissed him. “Go back to sleep. She’ll want a bottle again before you know it.”

He felt Crowley relax and closed his own eyes again. It was around two in the morning. They would be awakened again around four to four-thirty. Aziraphale was thankful they didn’t actually need sleep, as much as he had learned to appreciate and enjoy it.

“That was a very lovely lullaby you sang her,” Aziraphale murmured quietly before slipping back into slumber. “You are such a dear, you know.”

“Just go to sleep, angel.” Crowley settled in for another short nap before their new alarm clock went off again requiring another bottle. 

He opened his eyes to the sound of Rowan fussing and the feeling of Aziraphale getting out of bed. Rolling over into the warm spot left by his husband, he breathed in his scent with a smile, falling back into a pleasant torpor.

Aziraphale smiled serenely at Rowan as he picked her up. “Good morning, my darling. Ready for a change and a bottle?”

He set her on the changing table, manually taking care of that need first. Unlike Crowley, he didn’t mind changing nappies without the use of a miracle although he might have thought differently if Rowan did more than wet in hers. Getting her all bundled back up, he miracled up a perfectly warmed bottle in the amount she was drinking each feeding.

Wrapping her back up in her blanket, he cooed at her. “There. That should feel better. Let’s get you fed.”

It was now his turn to sit in the rocking chair to talk softly to Rowan as he fed her while pondering her very human behaviour. Maybe it was needed so they could bond with her. It was very lovely to sit holding her while she ate, those gold-flecked blue eyes focusing on his as she did. He smiled at her still amazed that life had presented them with what should have been impossible. 

He squinted at her a moment, thinking he saw a touch of yellow developing over the bridge of her nose. He had read a mountain of books on newborn babies and beyond, recognizing she could be becoming a bit jaundiced. Touching his finger to it as her eyes slowly started to close again thanks to a belly full of warm formula, he healed the jaundice, her skin going back to its proper flesh tone. 

“No more of that,” he murmured softly. “One day you’ll realize you really don’t need a liver. Or blood. Or to breathe. But I guess since you live here, you’ll need to keep up appearances around humans.”

Rowan only hiccupped in reply. Carefully he put the sleeping infant back, heading to the master bedroom soon after. Nudging Crowley out of his spot in the bed, he climbed in.

“They’re so helpless,” he commented. “Human babies, that is. Is it because humans are mammals?”

Crowley opened one serpentine eye to gaze at Aziraphale. “I don’t know if humans are mammals. Humans are humans.”

“They mate out of water.”

“They mate in it, too. So do we. On both accounts.” 

“Yes, but we’re spirits in human bodies so we’re different. We wouldn’t mate at all without the bodies I don’t think.”

“Didn’t we already have this conversation and conclude being a mammal had something to do with their young? Why are we bringing this up now? We’re not mammals, _per se_.”

“But if we’re in human bodies and produced a baby that’s a supernatural spirit in a human body, we might be. Somewhat at least.”

“Good night, angel.”

“But this is going to bother me until I find out.”

“We’re surrounded by an entire bookshop. I’m sure you’ll find a book or two on animal classifications if it’s going to bother you that much.” Crowley yawned, scooted closer and pulled Aziraphale in to spoon. “But do it on your own time. This is mine.”

Crowley dragged his fingers along the curve of Aziraphale’s plump stomach and kissed the nape of his neck. Aziraphale caught Crowley’s hand up in his own and snuggled in. It was not long before both of them had dozed off again.

Seven o’clock came much too early but Aziraphale decided to take this shift with Rowan and allow Crowley to have what counted for a lie-in these days. He’d been the one who had taken on the biggest burden so far. 

Having fed and changed her, he held her in his arms as he looked out the window at the quiet street below, thinking about the events of the past couple of years now. It seemed so odd still, all that had happened. How they were used by their sides even after they declared themselves on their own side. He still had this feeling he needed to look over his shoulder once in a while which now was completely unnecessary since they were under God’s protection and even Hell wouldn’t cross Her. 

And to think it had all culminated into the being he currently held in his arms. She was unique and even at this early point in her life it worried him. She only had her family, biological and adopted – him, Crowley and Lailah. She was the melding of the two Realms but belonged to neither. How would it affect Rowan? She was unique. What would her life be like? Would she be lonely if she felt the need for a mate like he and Crowley did? Or would she be fine with only her parents and Lailah as company? It made Aziraphale concerned for her future.

He needed to put such thoughts on the back burner for now. Rowan was a baby. 

_Let’s get through that first._

He took her out and placed her in the portable cot in the lounge before he headed to the kitchen to start some breakfast. Cooking was Crowley’s passion and talent, but Aziraphale could help out on simple things, like scrambled eggs and toast. He put a pan with some butter in it on the cooker, mixed up the eggs in a bowl and poured them in as soon as the butter had melted. 

Feeling proud that he actually remembered to not add milk to them this time since Crowley told him it didn’t make the eggs any fluffier but just diluted their flavour, he filled the teapot to set on the cooker as well while the eggs started bubbling. By the time he was done with that, the eggs were ready to be stirred. He kept that up until they were done, then plated them and set them aside. It wouldn’t matter if they cooled. He could reheat them in an instant. 

The kettle then whistled. Removing it from the heat, he made himself a cup of tea, sitting down for a minute. A minute was all he had. Rowan had awakened again although this time she wasn’t hungry. She apparently was just up for a bit. 

He got her out of the portable cot, changed her diaper and spent some time talking to her until she dropped off to sleep again. He felt tired. Who knew caring for something that did little more than eat and sleep could be exhausting? He shouldn’t _be_ tired; he was an angel. Sleep wasn’t something he technically needed.

He sat on the couch in a state of half-sleep when Crowley wandered out. Aziraphale gazed at Crowley with his messy shoulder length hair and dark circles under his eyes, giving a smile. Crowley halfway returned it. 

“You look like hell, my dear,” Aziraphale said, getting himself off the couch to walk to the kitchen with his husband.

“I used to live there, you know.” Crowley got out a mug and thought himself up the strongest cup of coffee possible. “Oh good. You made breakfast. I figured I’d have to and I have no energy. I can’t live on two-hour naps and it’s not like I need sleep at all. What gives?”

“I don’t know because I’m tired, too.” Aziraphale sat down across from him after getting the eggs off the back of the cooker where he had placed them. He heated them with a small miracle so they were hot again.

Crowley helped himself. “You forgot the toast again,” he teased, wishing up a plate of it along with butter and jam. 

“You’re the cook, not me. You’ll have to forgive me my forgetfulness. I was too busy being proud of the eggs I made by hand, no magical help.”

“They’re good, too,” said Crowley. “You’re learning, angel.”

“Thank you.” Aziraphale beamed despite his tired feeling.

“It’s the stress of the last few months or so and the birth landing on our heads along with having to care for a baby, isn’t it?” said Crowley out of the blue as he buttered some toast.

“What?” Aziraphale looked up, fork poised to scoop up more eggs.

“Our tired states. It’s mental exhaustion. We’re not immune from that.”

“Possibly. It’s not like we’ve had an easy time of it and you’ve had it worst since you were the pregnant one.”

They both ate in relative silence after that just enjoying each other’s company. The coffee perked Crowley up slightly and Aziraphale was recharged just by the food. Still, both wished dearly to just go back to bed. But Aziraphale had a bookshop to run and Crowley was on baby duty until he closed. He was doing half days right now, opening late in the morning and closing in the early afternoon, but he was determined that the business would be income despite Crowley’s penchant for simply wishing money into existence. He still clung to his angelic morals.

Crowley’s mobile rang as they were miracling the dishes clean. Puzzled, he answered it.

“Yes?”

“Crowley? It’s Lailah. I finally got a cell phone and . . .”

“Mobile,” he interrupted.

She sighed. “Whatever. Does it matter? Anyway, I have a week off because the Almighty wants me to make sure you two are doing ok with Rowan. So how do you feel about company?”

“I’m ok with it as long as you learn to speak proper English rather than American. Let me talk to Aziraphale.” He looked over at his husband. “Lailah wants to come spend a week with us. How’s that sound?”

“To help out with the baby? And can you possibly be less rude? She’s a very nice angel, you know.”

“He’s ok with it,” Crowley said into the mobile. “You wouldn’t believe how tired we are and we have powers. How do humans do this?”

“I’ll be down this afternoon once I’ve caught up on the little work I do have to do,” said Lailah. “See you around one or two your time.”

“Ok. See you then.” Crowley hung up and headed to the cot in the lounge. “Look who’s awake . . . oh, never mind. We just decided to open our eyes for a second. No thought to maybe how others might want to hold her or something. Must be nice to have the world revolve around you.”

Aziraphale treated him to one of his Looks. “Says the selfish one. All right. I’m going to go change then head down to open the bookshop for a while.” 

He gave Crowley a long kiss before he headed off to the bedroom. He could feel Crowley’s mood softening a bit as he did so. 

“I think I’m going to go soak in the tub for a bit before Rowan needs something,” Crowley called after him. “Let me know when you’re leaving.”

He had just filled the tub with water with a thought and was undressing when Aziraphale walked in. Aziraphale looked at his bare chest with some appreciation before giving him one last kiss and leaving the flat. 

“I’ll see you in a few hours,” he said. “Get some rest if you can.”

“I’ll try,” replied Crowley, flashing him some cheek as he pulled down his pyjama bottoms. 

Aziraphale pointedly ignored him, but Crowley knew he looked before he left. With a mischievous smile, he slid into the tub to soak as long as Rowan would allow him to. He sighed as he closed his eyes and let the water relax him.

He had healed himself and switched back to male-presenting after Rowan’s birth but he just couldn’t help pondering if part of his tiredness was due to spending nine months pregnant before having to go through labour and delivery. But he could only heal what he could find and quite frankly, he wondered what unknown toll the whole nine month event had taken on his body that was now healing the slow way. He decided he’d bring it up with Lailah and get her opinion. His thoughts moved on to other things that occupied him until the water had started to cool.

The wail of a newborn broke through his daydreams. 

“Well, back to it,” he sighed as he got out and miracled himself dried and clothed. A bottle appeared in his hand. “Coming, Rowan.”

He strode out to play parent once again. Funny how quickly one got used to it. 


	2. Friendship

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lailah arrives and Aziraphale learns all is not peachy keen in Heaven. Crowley's constant exhaustion is becoming noticeable. The boys get a little time to themselves.

Aziraphale looked over as the bell over the front door jingled announcing a new arrival. He barely had time to register who it was before Lailah all but leapt into his arms, excitedly hugging him. Breaking into a smile, he returned her hug in earnest.

“Aziraphale! I know it’s only been a couple of days, but I’ve spent so much time with you guys, I missed you,” she said, giving him a light kiss on the cheek that he returned.

“Hello, my dear. How are things going in Heaven?”

“Nobody outside of those who rebelled with me will talk to me, but no big deal. It’ll get better as rifts heal,” she replied lightly.

Aziraphale knew better as he could hear the forced tone she spoke with. He resolved to get her to come down to visit as much as possible. He knew how lonely Heaven could be when you didn’t fit in. He himself had few friends up there and while he missed them sometimes, he knew Earth was where he truly belonged. Maybe Lailah did now, too.

“You know you’re welcome here anytime. You don’t have to stay up there and take their abuse.”

She smiled and pushed some stray light brown hair out of her face, her green eyes twinkling. “Thanks, Aziraphale, but I think I’ll be able to manage it. But I will be down to visit that baby. Oh, and you guys, too.”

Aziraphale laughed. “All right. There are no more customers so I’m going to close up. You can go ahead upstairs.” 

He walked over to lock the door and pull the roller blinds. He then did a round of the shop, checking to make sure he didn’t miss someone standing among the shelves. The place was empty. Walking over to the till, he counted the cash in it before turning his attention to the tablet beside it with a credit card dongle plugged into it. That he turned off, doing nothing else with it.

Crowley was responsible for the tablet and ability to take credit cards. All Aziraphale knew was how to turn the tablet on and off, start up the credit card app and how to swipe the cards. All the technical stuff he left to Crowley, being someone who wanted as little to do with technology as possible. He didn’t even own a mobile even though Crowley occasionally pestered him about it. 

He really didn’t truly understand credit cards. How could a small piece of thin plastic be used to pay for something? He had asked questions, but his spouse had given up trying to explain it to him. Aziraphale just let him handle the more intricate processes when it came to this strange new money.

He gathered up the cash not needed to make change for tomorrow to take upstairs with him. Crowley also handled taking it to the bank. That, too, was one of those human things Aziraphale couldn’t quite wrap his mind around. Crowley would just roll his eyes with a comment on how he wished Aziraphale would get his head out of the 1860s and into modern times for a change.

Lailah had waited for him and they climbed the spiral staircase together. She opened the door to the flat for Aziraphale since he had his hands full. 

“Thank you,” he said. “Crowley! Lailah’s here!”

The lounge was empty, but they could hear the sound of crying coming from down the hallway. It drifted closer to them then Crowley stepped into the room holding Rowan who was red from screaming. Crowley himself looked disheveled, hair a mess, a burp cloth slung across one shoulder, dark circles still under his eyes. The look on his face was one of complete futility. He had Rowan on the shoulder with the burp cloth, patting her back as he stood there swaying in hopes that would help.

“She won’t stop. I’ve tried everything and even checked to make sure she wasn’t colicky because at least I can heal that,” he said, sounding like he really did want to give up. “She just keeps going. I was just about to take her for a drive. I hear that can calm fussy babies. If that didn’t work, I was considering drinking holy water. At leas then I wouldn’t have to listen to her anymore.”

Aziraphale quickly took Rowan from him. “Don’t say things like that. You came awfully close to being destroyed by holy water. If it wasn’t for that prophecy . . .”

He gave his spouse a quick kiss before turning to the upset baby in his arms. 

“Hi,” Crowley said tiredly to Lailah. “Welcome to our humble abode. Check your sanity at the door.”

Lailah reached out for a hug, expecting to be rebuffed, but Crowley let her hug him, even lightly returning it. “How’s it going? Not good from what I take it?” 

“I don’t know what happened. She just started going off and hasn’t stopped since.” He flopped on the couch. “Yes, I know. I look like hell. Aziraphale told me that just this morning.”

Lailah pulled him to his feet, Crowley letting out a protest. “Come on. Let’s get you to bed and I think I need to do some healing on you. Pregnancy can do a number on the body and even though you’ve changed forms and healed yourself, there might be some little things I can take care of.”

She escorted Crowley to the bedroom where she had him lie down so she could check over every part of him for any problems that might be contributing to his tiredness. She fixed a few issues with hormones, but his exhaustion was probably what he suspected, the mental result of the stress he and Aziraphale both had been under for months coupled with now having to care for a small person who required frequent feedings when their bodies just wanted eight hours a night of sleep in an attempt to recuperate. Their healing powers weren’t completely infallible. Sometimes the human bodies they were in needed to act like human bodies, especially after significant trauma.

“You had some confused hormones there. It’s a wonder you weren’t lactating,” she said when she was finished.

“Thought about it,” said Crowley who was lying there with his eyes closed. “But manifesting breasts every couple of hours just to feed her seemed rather inconvenient. Formula works fine. Mix up batches of it to put in the fridge since it’s not going to go bad on us. Conjure a warm bottle to ourselves when she needs it. It’s nice to have perks humans don’t.”

“You get some rest now. Let me and Aziraphale handle things for a while and when he gets tired, I’ll send him in to join you.” 

Aziraphale had the baby calmed down by the time Lailah came back. She smiled and gave him a pat on the arm. “You’re getting this down. I imagine poor Crowley was just too frazzled and she was picking up on it. I corrected some hormonal issues with him and told him to just rest. We weren’t meant to carry pregnancies, even with human bodies. He needs the recovery time. The pressure he was under while pregnant didn’t do his mind or body any favours, either.”

“How well I know. It’s a miracle he didn’t just fall apart,” replied Aziraphale as he swayed in place to keep Rowan asleep. “Anyway, thank you for taking care of him. How are you doing?”

She shrugged. “It could be better. But that’s what you get for standing up for what’s right. I’m a traitor and I probably would have been destroyed in hellfire if God hadn’t have returned to Heaven to sort things out. Those of us who rebelled have each other, but some of them are being accepted back in if they turn on us and claim they were tricked into or forced to join the rebellion.”

“I’m sorry, my dear girl. But I absolutely know how they can be and you’re welcome here anytime you need to get away.” Aziraphale looked at the baby in his arms. “I don’t know if it’s safe to put her down yet.”

“She looks pretty deeply asleep. What a little doll she is. I can’t wait until she’s in a better mood and I can actually hold her,” Lailah replied. “Does that sushi place across the street do takeout? I could go get you two some dinner. Crowley told me food tastes better when it’s not created out of thin air.”

“Crowley doesn’t like sushi. He says it’s disgusting and he would rather stop eating altogether than put raw fish in his mouth,” said Aziraphale. “I’ll be right back and we can discuss options.”

He left to lay Rowan down again while Lailah sat on the couch and recalled the map of Soho she now carried around in her head after patrolling it day after day for many months. There was the coffee shop, the sushi place, the little café down the block, the pizza place a couple of streets away. She’d learned public transportation quite well, being one of the angels who frequented Earth quite often, so heading off somewhere to pick up food and bring it back would be no issue. She doubted she was as highly adapted to Earth as Aziraphale and Crowley were, but she knew enough to get around the neighbourhood. 

“Aziraphale!” she called. “I’m off to grab pizza! Hopefully that won’t offend Crowley too much!”

“Neapolitan style or forget it!” she heard from the master bedroom.

Aziraphale came rushing out. “You two had better pipe down before you wake up Rowan,” he scolded. “There’s this one place in Soho he likes. They deliver. That way you don’t need to go anywhere. Do you want anything?”

“No, I’m fine. Never have gotten into the habit of eating, but thank you,” Lailah replied. “I’ll just get myself a latte. Is the machine still down at the cottage?”

“Yes,” said Aziraphale. “Feel free to bring it up.”

He went to Crowley’s office where his vintage telephone and ansaphone still sat on his desk. There he called up the pizza restaurant and placed the order. It would be there in about forty-five minutes. Walking to the kitchen, he found Lailah once again indulging in her favourite consumable. She didn’t eat, but she loved coffee drinks, especially lattes. Aziraphale had bought her an espresso machine when she stayed with them at the cottage in the time leading up to Rowan’s birth. Crowley had been irritated it took up space in _his_ kitchen.

“It’ll be a while before dinner,” he said. 

“Go get some rest,” she replied slightly distracted as she spooned frothed milk on top of her latte.

“But you just got in and . . .” Aziraphale started to say.

“Go.” Lailah pointed to the doorway leading to the lounge. “I’ll be here all week and it’s not like I’ve been gone that long. Go lie down with Crowley for a bit. I’ll take care of Rowan if she needs anything and get the pizza when it arrives.”

Aziraphale took himself to bed, taking off his waistcoat and bowtie before climbing into the bed beside his husband, pulling up bedclothes that were a curious mix of both their styles. The tartan comforter was done in greys with a hint of red and silvery sheets lay under it. 

Crowley cracked open a golden yellow eye. “She sent you to bed, too, I see.” He saucily scooted close to Aziraphale. “I’ve never had anyone send me to bed before. Next thing you know she’ll be grounding us.”

“Crowley, please,” murmured Aziraphale as he turned over so he could spoon with Crowley. The warmth of him against his back made Aziraphale start to feel sleepy. 

“Oh, I wouldn’t mind having to spend a week in my room with you,” whispered Crowley in Aziraphale’s ear. “The things we could do.” He slid a hand around to the front of Aziraphale’s trousers. 

“Don’t you tempt me. We’re supposed to be resting.”

“All you have to do is lie there while I make a few arm movements.”

“Lecherous serpent.” But he didn’t object when Crowley undid his trousers, pulled his semi-erect member out of his pants and proceeded to tease him with light touches to its most sensitive areas. 

It did feel so good and they hadn’t done anything for a couple of months now. Neither of them had been much in the mood for sex when they knew Heaven and Hell were preparing to take their child away from them and now they were either too busy or too tired to do anything. He moaned, letting the wonderful sensations travel through his body. It felt like rain in a desert now that it was happening.

Crowley stuck his thumb over the head, spreading the liquid that leaked out, then massaging around the head again, slowly drawing his hand down the underside of the shaft before spending a moment or two on his balls. Then he returned upwards to stroke the shaft while Aziraphale involuntarily thrusted in response to the stimuli. He felt wetness on the nape of his neck as Crowley kissed him and gasped in surprise when he bit down, sucking enough to leave a light coloured love bite. 

“I wish we could do more,” Crowley whispered before returning to give Aziraphale’s neck more attention while his hand still worked his cock.

Crowley’s hand movements caused his husband to thrust in a more frenzied manner. Aziraphale was enjoying the sexual touch, realizing how much he missed such activities. It had been too long since they have physically shown their love for each other. He rode the feelings as Crowley brought him closer to orgasm. 

Pressing hard against his husband, Crowley felt his excitement, drank up his desire. Aziraphale came quietly into his pillow; Crowley felt it wash over him in a wave of satisfaction that was an emotional climax for him as well. He felt desire dissipate into happy calm, feeding off it himself. That would keep him satisfied until later when hopefully Aziraphale would agree to let him shield the room so they could have a lot more fun than a simple hand job.

The mess vanished and Aziraphale’s trousers were refastened. He rubbed the back of his neck before turning over on his back.

“You left a love bite on me, didn’t you?”

“I healed it, so don’t worry.” Crowley lay down on Aziraphale's chest, swiping playfully at the hollow of his neck with his tongue before moving up to kiss him on the lips. “I get my turn later.”

“Lailah doesn’t sleep, you know,” Aziraphale replied. 

“We can shield. She’ll get all tied up in binge watching some stupid American show on Hulu or something,” Crowley said. “We just have to be sneaky enough to plan it between Rowan’s feedings. When will dinner get here?”

“I don’t know . . . maybe twenty minutes?” 

“I’m going to sleep anyway. It’s not like we can’t rewarm it.” Crowley nuzzled in, red locks falling over Aziraphale’s chest, arm wrapped possessively around him. 

In the lounge, Lailah waited to hear the doorbell that would announce the arrival of the pizzas downstairs. Things were quiet in the flat, aside from the television, so she suspected the boys were actually sleeping. She decided she wouldn’t wake them for dinner if they were.

She was wondering if watching reality shows would help her understand human nature better when the bell rang announcing the pizzas’ arrival. Putting down the remote, she headed down to the bookshops’ front door to hand the guy the money Aziraphale gave her and collect the pizza.

“Thank you,” she said to him, giving him a smile as he handed her a couple of boxes. 

“Thank you.” He winked at her. “I wouldn’t think someone like you would work in an old shop like this.” 

She shut the door puzzled. Did he just flirt with her? Oh well. It didn’t matter; although getting deliveries might have been easier had Aziraphale and Crowley bothered to add a private outside entry to their flat. Even she was observant enough to notice all the other flats in the area had that feature, but she assumed all the other flats in the area were actually built with the building, not magically added on later.

Locking the bookshop up again, she headed back upstairs to see if the boys were awake. Quietly opening the bedroom door, she saw they were not and simply closed it again. The pizza would keep until they were ready for it. It was odd to think of a demon and an angel who indulged in such human activities as eating and sleeping, but she had long gotten over that, especially after she developed her own obsession with coffee.

The whole love, marriage and physical affection right down to the actual sex they participated in still confused her. As an angel, she did understand the concept of love, yet not the type of relationship they had. But they needed it for whatever reason and she respected that. 

Putting the pizza boxes on the kitchen table, she decided to call them to dinner in about an hour. A cry from down the hall told her Rowan was awake, so she took care of a needed diaper change then carried her to lounge for a bottle.

“Hello there, little girl. Welcome to the world. I hear it’s not that bad, but I come from a different Realm.” She stopped for a moment. “Oh, who am I kidding? I suck at talking to babies and my job involves them. I used to have to show the unborn their many possible futures and tell them to make good choices so maybe that’s why I don’t really do well with that. It’s a good thing you can’t understand me. I’m sitting here telling you that the world isn’t that bad. It’s great. It’s a wonderful world and you’ll enjoy it. I do. What I’ve seen of it.”

She paused a moment, looking down at the starry-eyed baby with wispy strawberry blonde hair blinking up at her. Then she rewrapped the heather grey swaddling blanket around her as it had come loose. The gown she was wearing underneath was white with tiny pink rosebuds on it and soft lace at the collar. She laughed a bit at that – the blanket was Crowley’s choice but the gown was so Aziraphale. 

Holding Rowan until she fell asleep, she put the baby down in her cot before knocking on the door to the master bedroom. She heard one of them stirring.

“The pizza’s been here a while. I let you sleep, but do you boys want dinner now?”

“Yeah, hungry,” responded Crowley. “But I want it in here.”

Lailah sighed. “You want to get crumbs in your bed?”

“No, he doesn’t,” Aziraphale replied, opening the door. “He can have manners and eat at the table like a normal person. Thank you, Lailah.”

He went to the kitchen while the lump remaining in the bed didn’t move. Lailah followed him, stopping with a laugh when she saw the pizza boxes open and a couple of pieces missing. Aziraphale was not so amused. With an annoyed look, he glared down the hall.

“Really, Crowley?” he crossly called. Resigning himself to Crowley's lazy behaviour, he got a plate and helped himself to some of the remaining pizza. “Would you like to try some?”

“No thanks. I think you two need to eat up, though. It just might help your bodies recover from the stress you’ve been under.”

“I’m sorry he’s being so embarrassing,” said Aziraphale as he cut up his pizza into pieces and delicately ate them. “After dinner I’ll put on a James Bond film. It’ll lure him out so we all can actually have a nice conversation.”

It worked. They weren’t past the credits before Crowley stalked out looking rather cross. He collapsed into the matching chair next to the couch because Aziraphale and Lailah had taken up most of that. Those serpentine eyes glared in his husband’s direction, his arms crossed as he hunched there. He still didn’t look much rested and Aziraphale felt guilty about luring him out of bed now.

“A Bond film? You decided to show her a Bond film when you barely know what a film is? You don’t play fair, angel.”

“No, but it got you out here. We have company and while we are attempting to spend this week getting well-rested, we also can’t be rude. You don’t work for Hell anymore so you can bother to develop some manners,” Aziraphale replied tartly.

“You picked a lousy one to start with.” Crowley turned off the streaming service with a wave. “We need like a couple of days and some planning to do Bond right. You’ll need to see a few of the better films, not this garbage. Not every one they made was good.”

“Then what shall we watch?” Lailah asked. 

“You seem to watch a lot of American stuff,” replied Crowley.

“I know more of the American culture. I spent a lot of time over there doing undercover work when they needed an extra hand.” 

“Bleah. I haven’t dealt with them since we referred to them as “the Colonists” and I feel I haven’t missed much.”

“Crowley, please,” murmured Aziraphale. “You could rein it in a bit.”

Pulling up all the streaming services possible, Crowley flicked through them looking for a suitable film to show the two angels and decided on _The King’s Speech_ since Aziraphale had had an invisible hand in pushing the future King George VI towards his speech therapist Lionel Logue. Heaven had not liked the character of his brother Edward VIII and worked behind the scenes to get him off the throne and the Duke of York installed in his place. 

Hell liked Edward and his abdication had taken them by surprise. Crowley was supposed to help get him back on the throne through Edward’s ties to Nazi Germany but Crowley was rather fond of his adopted home country of England thus did not want Nazis running all over it. A few documents clandestinely placed on the right desks ensured the now-Duke of Windsor’s spilling of military secrets while on a tour of Hitler’s Germany was known and the former king found himself shipped off to the Bahamas where he could cause no more trouble for the rest of the war. Hell was none the wiser of Crowley’s double cross.

“That was so sanitized it isn’t even funny,” commented Aziraphale after the film ended. 

They sat there watching the last scene – Lailah holding a cup of coffee while her feet rested on the coffee table which was littered with an empty cappuccino mug, three bottles of wine and Crowley’s empty wine glass. Aziraphale was still sipping at the small amount left in his glass. It was a rather nice white wine, not too dry at all.

Crowley had switched seats with Lailah and was sitting leaning up against his husband. “You were there. Indulge us a bit and tell us what it was really like.”

“You knew how much of a Nazi sympathizer the Duke of Windsor was. Their father appeased Germany for a while and endorsed a Prime Minister when he should have stayed neutral like the Crown is supposed to. Churchill spoke out in support of Edward. The man bent over backwards for a fascist for Heaven’s sake,” Aziraphale said with a dramatic wave of his hand, careful not to spill what was left of his wine. “It’s not like you weren’t there. How many times did I see you stalking around Buckingham Palace or Downing Street?”

Lailah sat there laughing. “Historical inaccuracies aside, it seemed a decent movie.”

“An Americanized version of British royalty,” sniffed Aziraphale. “They don’t have their own monarchy to gawk at, so they have to gawk at this one and a fictionalized version at that.”

“So, Crowley,” Lailah interrupted before Aziraphale could go on a tipsy rant about the American fascination with British things. “What were you doing during all this?”

“Hell wanted me to make sure Edward kept cozy with the Nazis and Churchill kept supporting Edward,” Crowley replied. “I did the bare minimum because I don’t like Nazis and during World War II ensured the right people knew what the former king was up to so he could be nullified. I don’t take kindly to threats to my chosen home.”

“You did look scrumptious in those suits you wore,” Aziraphale interjected.

“Ok, up you go.” Crowley had stood up and was helping Aziraphale to his feet. He grinned at Lailah. “I’m sorry, but I think I need to put Mr. Tipsy here to bed before he says something else he’s going to find mortifying in the morning. Are you going to be on baby duty or am I?”

“I’ll take it. You two go get some rest. Good night.”


	3. Domestic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _It was mid-afternoon and Aziraphale was starting to worry. Crowley had slept all night after their lovemaking, had woken for a couple of hours to eat breakfast and spend time with him and Rowan, then had taken himself back to bed, saying the bit of activity had worn him out. Aziraphale hadn’t seen him since._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Posting today instead of my usual Saturday because I'm trying something different. I think there will be a Saturday posting, too. Maybe if it works out, I'll post to this one twice a week. It's still a lot of fluff, but we're starting to see problems arise with Crowley. But be warned, I think a lot of this story is just going to be fluff. Given I write a lot of whump, I'm kind of enjoying the change of pace.

They lay in bed kissing with the room shielded from the rest of the flat. Crowley had Aziraphale stripped to the waist and was attempting to convince him to fully disrobe. The angel was reluctant with company in the house, even with shields in place.

“C’mon,” Crowley said, his lips almost touching Aziraphale’s ear as he whispered. “What is there to be embarrassed about? It’s not like she doesn’t know what goes on. She also doesn’t remotely understand it so it’s not like she views it as something shameful. It’s just something we do. I’ve talked with her about it before.”

He pulled off his own trousers and pants, blatantly showing off his assets to his spouse. Aziraphale’s eyes couldn’t help but travel downwards. The demon flopped over on his stomach on the bed with a grin. 

“You always say I have a cute butt,” he said to the angel. His irises changed to their original amber colour because it was hard to give a good puppy dog look when working with snake eyes. “And I gave you an old fashioned earlier.”

“Where do you get these phrases?” Aziraphale’s sky blue eyes hadn’t left Crowley’s bum.

“The internet.”

“Of course.” Aziraphale knew the internet existed and that it was a source of amusement and new language skills for Crowley, but little more. “Ok. I know. I’m being paranoid.”

“Obviously.” 

The now-naked demon was crawling into his lap, arms encircling him, teeth tugging at his earlobe. His arse was within reach, just a few centimetres from Aziraphale’s fingers. All he had to do was move his hand just a bit and he could scratch his fingernails along it in a way that made Crowley squirm. It didn’t help his husband was so close that his erection was rubbing along Aziraphale’s waistband, occasionally hitting the bare skin above it tantalizingly. He could hear the breathy sounds of desire escaping his own lips. 

“See?” said Crowley, Aziraphale’s earlobe still between his lips. “You want it. Would it help if I put on one of those suits I wore back during the War?”

“Then I couldn’t see your cute bottom,” breathed Aziraphale, his arousal becoming stronger. 

Crowley felt the Principality grab his arse, jumping in surprise. Fingernails dug into his cheek causing him to moan in response. Crowley’s entire body was basically an erogenous zone because oddly enough the demon was very touch-oriented. It seemed strange of a being who came from a Realm so crowded that everyone was fighting for what little personal space they could scrounge up. But he spent little time in Hell itself and really wasn’t demon material in the first place, so Aziraphale wondered if that was the reason he was so different.

Crowley rode the wave of erotic feelings through until Aziraphale let up with his fingernails. The angel felt him relax on to his shoulder, his breath warm on his collarbone. He stroked the demon’s long red hair thinking maybe later he’d braid it for Crowley.

But right now he grabbed handfuls of it so he could pull Crowley’s head back to roughly kiss him. Crowley’s eyes widened in surprise, popping back to their usual snake appearance. Dilated vertical pupils in golden yellow stared back at Aziraphale even at this close range before fluttering closed.

“Is this what you want?” the angel asked.

“Mmm.” Crowley’s hand scrabbled at his husband’s back.

Aziraphale laid him down on the bed, vanishing what was left of his clothing. His cock was brushing Crowley’s thigh as he bent over him, resuming the kissing before moving from his mouth to nibble at his collarbone, then heading down to bite his nipples rather roughly, pulling one up painfully before letting go. Crowley cried out with pleasure. 

A hand went to Crowley’s balls. “I kind of miss your vagina.”

“You want it back?”

“Maybe later. I don’t want you switching between male and female when your hormone situation just got settled.” Aziraphale dipped further, his head now below Crowley’s waist.

Feeling like experimenting, Aziraphale licked along one of Crowley’s balls. He felt the demon jerk, a moan escaping his lips, his hand finding Aziraphale’s curls to grab a hold. Emboldened, he took another gentle swipe, moving across it over to the other. Crowley seemed to react the best when he licked along the seam. Carefully he lapped along it in short bursts before licking in a figure eight pattern. The hand on his head tightened as Crowley tried not to squirm in pleasure. 

Heading up the shaft of his cock after a few rounds of teasing him, Aziraphale left a trail of wetness as he headed north to the head, then took it whole in his mouth. A firm hand on his stomach kept Crowley from thrusting roughly into the back of his throat. Aziraphale gauged that Crowley was pretty satisfied with this foreplay from not only the hand in his hair, but the pleasured hum coming from the demon’s throat. Settling in, he delicately worked on Crowley’s penis, sucking part of the time, licking the head in other instances and on occasion stroking his foreskin with the tip of his tongue.

Aziraphale’s hand almost wasn’t enough to keep Crowley from arching and thrusting in pleasure. He begged the angel to allow him to move, even gently. Aziraphale knew if he allowed gentle, it would soon become rough and tonight he wasn’t in the mood to have Crowley’s cock shoved halfway down his throat.

He responded by sucking hard, plunging his head up and down repeatedly on the demon. Eventually Crowley cried out once again and Aziraphale felt the physical pressure building in his cock. Preparing himself just in time, he allowed his husband to thrust down his throat just in time for him to come. Semen flowed down his throat without him having to taste it. 

“Get yourself up here where I can see you, angel.” He found himself dragged up so he was even with Crowley’s face and engaged in more passionate kissing. 

“You up for anything else?” Aziraphale asked, not wanting to overdo it. Crowley looked like he had just run a marathon. 

“I’m fine. It’s not like I have to do the lion’s share of the work. That’ll be on you.”

“Turn over. It’s quicker from behind.”

“Thanks. You just made me feel cheap.” Crowley rolled over.

“I’m worried about your energy levels.” Aziraphale was on top of him, kissing at the nape of his neck. 

He entered the demon, thrusting carefully at first then getting up speed as both their desires rose. His hands wandered all over Crowley’s back, brushing the sensitive areas where his wings manifested then teasingly moving away again. Crowley whimpered in lust. 

“You’re fine, baby,” soothed Aziraphale. “Let me pleasure you.” _Baby? Where did_ that _come from? I guess I do need this._

Adjusting slightly, he hit exactly the right areas with his thrusts. Crowley squirmed beneath him, moaning, pushing back as his pleasure shot up. The angel was feeling the increase as well, the tightness of the demon rubbing everything the right way. He closed his eyes, his breathing coming in short bursts as his head exploded with the passion.

He checked himself a bit since the point here was not to wear Crowley out. Slowing down the movement just a bit, he kept at a rhythm that would soon bring them both to orgasm. A little selfish part of him buried deep inside regretted having to end things so soon; a little fun was one thing, sapping Crowley unnecessarily of precious energy was another. 

They both hit orgasm gently, riding it up like a placid wave this time instead of a frenzied activity. Aziraphale closed his eyes as he felt Crowley clench around him, bringing everything to a head. He released, listening to the moans of his husband doing the same. He had concerns about doing this given Crowley’s state and Lailah being here, but it felt so good.

The angel lay down, situating himself up against his demon and gave him a kiss on the shoulder. “I enjoyed that and what we did earlier very much, my dear. You get some more sleep now.”

_Please let it help him this time._

“Ok. Good night, angel.”

Crowley snuggled in with kisses and was soon asleep. Aziraphale lay awake for a while listening to and feeling his demon breathe before his eyes, too, became heavy and he drifted off as well. Even Rowan’s cries over the baby monitor they forgot to shut off didn’t wake either of them. 

Neither of them stirred when Lailah came in to turn it off. She looked them over and smiled, glad to see both of them getting some rest. Sleep was good for them, especially since she felt something was off with Crowley. She didn’t know what and it worried her. But until she figured things out, she decided to keep her gut instincts to herself.

Softly closing the door behind her, she went back to the lounge to watch some episodes of _Call the Midwife_ , which intrigued her, given her own position as angel of the unborn. After that, she got out her laptop to do checks on the ensoulment of babies and other little pieces of work that needed to be done even though she was taking some time away from the office.

Rowan fussed a bit about two hours later, needing her usual feeding and diaper change. Lailah looked her over very carefully this time, putting her hands on the baby’s temples to read for any unusual goings-on in her tiny body. She was perfectly fine. Lailah breathed a sigh of relief at that. She was a midwife, among other duties, but she was no healer beyond those problems that cropped up in newborns and mothers both before and after the birth. She didn’t know if she could heal serious issues in supernatural beings. That was Raphael’s purview and he certainly wasn’t going to give Crowley or Rowan the time of day without a direct order from God Herself.

Holding the baby, she went back to her show. There was nothing she could do about anything right now anyway. She just might be seeing the worst when there wasn’t anything to get excited over.

Morning came quickly and Lailah slipped out while Rowan was deeply asleep to head to the coffee shop across the way. Getting in line, she waited patiently until she reached the front counter, peering in at the pastries they sold. What was good? Brow furrowed, she wondered what the boys would like. 

“Can I help you?” asked the man behind the counter.

“I haven’t had any of your pastries. What’s good?”

“Everything! But I highly recommend these.” The clerk pointed to some very large pecan sticky buns.

Lailah bought some of those, some cinnamon rolls and a couple of bear claws. They all seemed rather American fare to her, but she had no clue what was eaten for breakfast over here. Hopefully Crowley didn’t throw a fit. On second thought, she was doing something nice and he could appreciate it or shut up. She didn’t want to leave Rowan too long, this was close and if the menu was American food, then he could make his own breakfast if he didn’t like it.

Taking the bag, she headed back to the bookshop, up the spiral staircase and back into the apartment . . . flat, she corrected herself, where she set her purchases on the counter for the boys to find when they woke up. 

A few dishes were left from dinner. To pass the time, she washed and dried them by hand, proud that she was able to get the sauce off the plates, then peeked in cabinets and drawers to see where to put the plates and silverware. So this is what their life was like, some strange hybrid between human and supernatural. No wonder neither of them fit into their respective Realm. 

She had spent months with them, but not like this. She was on patrol, keeping an eye on Crowley’s progress through the end of the pregnancy, organizing members of the resistance, worrying with Aziraphale and Crowley about the outcome once Rowan was born. She didn’t have time to really see how they lived. This was an eye-opener and she was finding their way of life rather charming. It sure beat the boredom of Heaven. 

Dishes all put away, she decided to take a moment to draw, a passion of hers, before Rowan needed her again. Crowley had an African violet in bloom and she found that to be a worthy subject to sketch. Sitting on the floor in front of it where the sunlight was hitting the plant just right, the play of light and shadows adding depth to the flowers, she got out her pencils and sketchbook to start drawing.

~*~*~

“Lailah’s not in?” Eleth asked, knocking the neighboring office door that happened to belong to Pahaliah. “I have some paperwork for her.”

Pahaliah looked up from her computer. “No. I hear she’s down on Earth helping those two abominations with their brat for the week. Just leave it on her desk.”

Eleth rolled his eyes. “Of course. She didn’t choose Heaven when this whole thing was happening.   
Why would that traitor choose Heaven now? Hey, you free later? It’s the final match and Gabriel’s team is probably going to take it, but I think Uriel’s will give them a run for their money. I got a couple of tickets. Want to go?”

Pahaliah nodded. “Sure. I didn’t have anything planned after work and you know how much I love ball. I wasn’t quick enough to get tickets so, thank you very much for the offer!”

“Great! I’ll see you later. Meet me in the square at the hour of leave-taking.”

Eleth entered Lailah’s office. He dropped the folder he was asked to deliver on her desk the paused. He glared around the room as if he desired to do something awful to it. After a minute of thought he picked up a piece of paper and started to write on it. Pausing a moment, he rethought his actions and ripped the paper up. He had to be careful right now as God was still alert to what was going on in Heaven even though She hadn’t involved herself yet. All the angels were on their best behaviour. It was better to wait until Her eye was turned elsewhere. 

Instead he turned and left to go back to his own office. The bit of gossip he collected from Pahaliah would more than make up for having to waste his time on a turncoat.

~*~*~

It was mid-afternoon and Aziraphale was starting to worry. Crowley had slept all night after their lovemaking, had woken for a couple of hours to eat breakfast and spend time with him and Rowan, then had taken himself back to bed, saying the bit of activity had worn him out. Aziraphale hadn’t seen him since. The angel had grabbed a leftover piece of pizza along with a sticky bun and miracled them both warm to take down to his husband along with a mug of tea.

“Crowley?” he said as he pushed the door open with his shoulder, his hands being full carrying a plate and mug. “You awake?”

“Mmm?” Crowley stirred in bed, stretching out in a manner that brought out his serpentine features, like the long lithe shape of his body. “That you, angel?”

“Yes. Would you like something to eat? I have pizza here and a sticky bun. With some tea.”

“Not hungry.”

“You probably should put something in your system. It might help with the tiredness.” Aziraphale set the plate and mug on the nightstand closest to Crowley’s head. “Lailah believes you’re still recovering from the birth. Come on. Get up and at least eat the pizza.”

Crowley pulled himself slowly up while his husband got pillows situated so he could easily sit up in bed. Grabbing the plate, Aziraphale handed it to him. “Please, just eat a few bites. It’ll make you feel better.”

The angel walked to the other side of the bed, climbing in with him. He watched anxiously as Crowley slowly consumed the pizza, picking at it instead of eating it with his usual efficiency. Crowley noticed him staring.

“It’s not like I’m dying,” he groused. “My body’s just been through a lot and no demon’s been through that before. It’s going to take a toll.”

“Let me check you.” Aziraphale shifted so he could put his hands against Crowley’s temples. “Please?”

Crowley nodded, his mouth full of pizza. He swallowed so Aziraphale could get to work. The angel placed his hands, closing his eyes. His forehead wrinkled slightly as he concentrated on reading Crowley’s state of health. The demon didn’t expect his eyes to reopen with such a worried look in them.

“Crowley, your energy is leaving your body quicker than you can replenish it. How can that be?”

“I don’t know,” he replied, putting the remains of the slice of pizza he was holding back on the plate. “I’ve never heard of that happening to an occult being.”

Aziraphale leaned up against him, his concern palpable. “Lailah took Rowan for a walk since she was fussy. I want her to have a look when she gets back.”

“Ok,” replied Crowley. “I think I want to sleep a bit more now.”

“I’ll stay with you.”

“Like I told you earlier, I’m not going to die.” Crowley removed some pillows so he could lay down again. “It’s probably a post pregnancy thing.”

“Perhaps, but it is worrisome,” Aziraphale replied as he spooned his demon, kissing his cheek before settling down.

He clung tightly to him as if afraid he was going to lose him.

They had been in bed only about twenty minutes when Lailah returned, having left the pram parked in the bookshop’s backroom and carried Rowan upstairs. She could immediately sense Aziraphale’s worry despite the fact he had deliberately unlinked from the Host back when Crowley was pregnant and Lailah had told them the truth about their baby-to-be’s origins and Heaven’s plan for her. The connection between them remained since they were friends. 

Aziraphale emerged from the master bedroom looking a bit disheveled – waistcoat missing, his bowtie and upper button of his shirt undone. Lailah was on her way to put Rowan down since she was asleep when she nearly bumped into him in the hallway. He took the baby from her, giving his daughter kisses then caressing the sparse strawberry blonde hair on her head. 

“What’s wrong?” Lailah asked quietly. 

Aziraphale indicated they should talk in the nursery. He laid Rowan down with a smile and one last tickle of her chubby cheek then checked to make sure the monitor was off. It was.

“Crowley’s not well and I don’t know what do to about it,” he told her. “I checked him over. His energy is dissipating faster than he can replenish it. Is this related to the pregnancy? He doesn’t seem too concerned, but I am. I think it’s affecting him so much he doesn’t realize what a problem it is.”

“I checked him over but didn’t notice that, just the hormonal imbalance,” she replied. “I only know basic healing that can save a mother or a newborn. I’m not knowledgeable in the more advanced stuff. That’s Raphael’s area.”

“Like he’d help a demon,” snorted Aziraphale.

“Yeah, I know. Not without God ordering him to.”

“Is She still up there sorting things out?”

“She did a little bit but not too much because such actions might mess with the causality of stuff. She’s back in Her section of Heaven not interfering anymore but there in case things start to go south,” Lailah replied. “I have a front door key.”

Aziraphale looked shocked and impressed at the same time. “Oh?”

“You, Crowley and Rowan are important. You’re being protected by Her. I have full access to Her to make sure you three stay safe. That’s your reward for all the trials and tribulations you had to go through to save the world,” Lailah indicated she was heading out to the lounge. “But I can’t go running to Her every time something bad happens. It’s got to be dire. Let’s keep an eye on the situation for now.”

“I’m going to do some research, but there’s probably nothing on this sort of problem,” said Aziraphale. “But I do have a couple of books on energy drains. They’re just out on the floor here if you want to help out.”

“All right. Rowan will be asleep a while. Let me grab the baby monitor just to be sure.”

She headed back to the master bedroom to get it, peering in first before fully opening the door. “Crowley? You awake?”

“Yeah . . . barely,” was the reply from the bed. The bedclothes rustled as he sat up. He looked worse than he did when he showed up at Tadfield’s airbase scorched, covered in ash, scared for his own existence as well as Aziraphale’s, Hell on his heels.

“Oh, honey . . . you look horrible,” Lailah replied. “Aziraphale told me what’s going on.”

She shifted her vision so she could see his aura and energy field. Energy was used and some of it just dissipated. That was a consequence of being in a body, even with supernatural beings. But angels and demons could pull energy again directly from the firmament while humans needed such vessels as sleep and food to get theirs. Crowley was doing the unconscious pulling of energy the way a demon should, but it wasn’t enough to counter what was being siphoned off. 

She threw some of her own energy at him, hoping it would temporarily help him. 

“Thanks. I’ve been trying all day to look my worst. Glad I’ve finally succeeded.”

“We’ll figure this out, Crowley. I was just going to borrow the baby monitor while Aziraphale and I do a bit of research on energy drains. You just rest, ok?”

“That’s all I’ve been doing,” the demon complained as he picked at the comforter. “It’s not like I can’t give Rowan a bottle. Doesn’t burn that much energy.” He wished up a bassinet and Lailah could see it took him effort to do so. “Bring her in here. I’ll take care of her.”

Lailah brought Rowan in and laid her in the bassinet. She put the baby monitor from the nursery on the nearby nightstand, picking up the half that belonged in the master bedroom. Waggling it at Crowley, she said, “I’m taking this with me. Turn that half on and call for help if you need it.”

“Ok.” He lay back down on his side, facing the bassinet. “We’ll be fine. Go do your research.”

She left, still feeling concerned after seeing the effort it took for him to conjure up that bassinet. 

“They worry too much,” Crowley muttered as he settled back down. He managed to stay awake for about five minutes before the need to sleep overtook him again. 

Rejoining Aziraphale she showed him the monitor before setting it on the table next to the bookshelves that had been there ever since Crowley conjured it during their last need to research unknown magical spells. He sighed upon hearing Crowley’s need to show he was not that sick.

“I worry he’s just going to make things worse,” the Principality commented to her. “Anyway, there has to be a spell to counter it and it would be in one of two books.” He conjured up pictures of the tomes. “The only problem is, I have no idea anymore where they are on the shelf. I’ve been meaning to catalogue up here but other priorities have come first. I’ll start at that end, you at this one?”

“Ok.” 

Lailah walked to the end of the nearest bookshelf to start searching. Aziraphale obviously didn’t spend much time up here. The books might have been magically protected from collecting anything that might harm them, like dust, but the shelves weren’t. She sneezed several times.

“You really need to dust up here,” she called across the room to him. 

“I apologize for the conditions up here, but I’ve kind of had other things on my mind,” he called back to her.

“Oh, come on . . . nothing that important,” she teased.

He shot her an unamused look around the corner of the shelf he was behind and over the top of his old-fashioned reading glasses. “Very funny.”

There was silence for about an hour as they searched. Lailah eventually found one book and it wasn’t a half hour later that Aziraphale located the other. They were now in business. Sitting down at the table, they flipped through them to find any spell that might be useful.

Inside, Crowley managed to get himself out of bed to get Rowan. Totally forgetting that he’d have to heat a bottle, he trudged to the kitchen with the baby to get one from the refrigerator and heat it the conventional way using hot water. Conjuring up that bassinet took too much energy. He had decided not to waste more on wishing a warm bottle to himself. Rowan, used to instant gratification, was not happy about the situation.

“I know, little girl,” he said to her. “But I need to conserve energy right now. You did a number on me, you know.”

Making sure the bottle wasn’t too hot, he gave it to her as he went back to bed. Laying down with her cradled beside him, he closed his eyes while she drank, opening them again when he heard her starting to suck air.

“That’s not good. I can’t heal gas problems that easily right now. Why don’t you go back to sleep?”

But he found it impossible to get up the motivation to put her back in the bassinet. Throwing the bottle on the floor for now, he situated himself so they could both sleep comfortably without him doing something stupid like rolling over on her. Placing a kiss on her forehead, Crowley closed his eyes, falling asleep before the newborn beside him did.


	4. Fatigue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aziraphale and Lailah work on Crowley's energy problem while the husbands juggle family life, friendship and share some tender moments.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Publishing early because they're going to be working on the fiber optics this weekend. Sooo, God knows if I'll have fast enough internet to publish something tomorrow.

“All right, we have the books now,” said Aziraphale as he sat down at the table with Lailah. “Did you examine him yourself or anything? We might as well get all the information out so we know what we’re dealing with.”

“His energy is leaving him quicker than it’s being replenished and it’s just dissipating into the firmament. It’s like his spirit’s confused. On one hand, it seems to think it’s still pregnant but on the other, is back to normal operating procedures. So it’s expending more energy than it’s collecting,” she replied, running a finger over the cover of the book in front of her.

“And if we don’t fix it?”

“My guess is that he’ll discorporate.”

Aziraphale sighed. “I’d rather that not happen. The Almighty has us covered in that area since Heaven and Hell would no longer lift a finger to help us if we lose our bodies, but I can’t bear the thought of being without him for however long it takes him to get back. And Rowan needs him, too.”

Lailah brushed her light brown ponytail back off her shoulder. “And if the problem’s in his spirit self rather than his body, it’ll just happen all over again with a new corporation until we figure it out. If it gets dire enough he’s in danger, I will be going to the Almighty. I’ve been appointed your go-between since you’re exiled from Heaven. I know. She could unexile you, but She’s hesitant to undo anything for fear of messing up free will. She’s just there to prevent another Revolt from happening.”

“Understandable. The situation was precarious enough when we were trying to prevent the Apocalypse. I don’t blame Her for being wary of doing anything that might cause trouble.” Aziraphale opened his tome. “I don’t miss Heaven because everything I want or need is here. Anyway, on with this. The sooner we can get this solved, the better.”

An hour later, Lailah turned away from her book, rubbing her eyes in response to reading tiny print for such a lengthy period of time. How could Aziraphale lose himself in such dry books the way he did? She got his attention, which took a moment or two. 

“How about I go get some dinner?” she asked. “It’s getting late and my eyes can’t take reading that small print anymore.”

She obviously didn’t really get his attention because he had turned back to the pages in front of him with a “That sounds delightful. You do what you have to. I’ll be there in a jiffy.”

She checked on the flat’s sleeping occupants, then headed out to see what Soho had for carryout that Crowley would eat. Hopping on a bus, she made her way to an eatery that did Chinese. She hoped that would do as she entered, grabbing a take-out menu off the front counter. 

Perusing the selections, she tried to get things that were high in protein, trusting that would help Crowley out at least a bit in the energy department. She knew carbs would give him a boost of energy but just end up burning off quicker than protein would. At least she could use some of her maternal healing knowledge with him, but she right now really did wish she had a more comprehensive background. 

She placed her order, which would be enough for two meals for the boys, and sat down in the chairs provided to wait. Thinking a moment, she pulled out her cell phone and dialed a number that would not ring any phone located on Earth.

“Raphael speaking.”

“Raph, it’s Lailah.”

There was a pause. “Lailah, how are things going on Earth?”

“Not good. Do you have a moment?” she asked.

“I have a meeting in about fifteen minutes, but go ahead.”

“How would you feel about examining and healing the demon Crowley?”

Another pause filled the air. “Lailah you know I can’t. As a healer, I’m not agreeable to war of any kind and I did stay neutral in this last conflict, but things are not settled around here. If it got out I was involved in such things . . . well . . . you know. I’m sorry. But tell me what’s up. I can at least consult. It might be something you can handle with the right instruction.”

“His energy is leaving him quicker than it’s being replenished and it’s just dissipating into the firmament. It’s like his spirit’s confused about his current state, thinks it’s pregnant and needs to expend more energy, but not so it’s collecting the amounts needed to make up for what’s being sloughed off into the firmament. I don’t know what to do about it,” she said, sounding slightly desperate.

“Hmm, to be honest, neither to do I. That is not a problem I’ve come across, but you could try looping the sloughed off energy around so his body collects it again. That might buy you some time while you figure it out,” Raphael replied. “Look, you’ll figure it out. You’re smart and resourceful. Oh, and you have Aziraphale. He’s been the best researcher Heaven has since before the Rebellion. Just keep your chin up, ok?”

“Ok,” she said, trying not to sound petulant. Raphael always was concerned about his standing in the Host, so what did she expect? “Thanks.”

“Oh, and Lailah?”

“Yeah?”

“Take care of yourself and be on alert when you get back here. There’s resentment building still against those who didn’t agree with the plan,” he said. “I know the Almighty’s keeping an eye on it, but it’s going to have to get bad before She acts. Just remember you did what was right. Protected the baby. That was your job. I’m trying to get people to remember that.”

“I’ll be careful. Talk to you later.” She hung up her cell phone with a sigh.

Crowley was right about it, she decided. The angels were no better than the demons. Just a bunch of beings doing their jobs, but not really the bastions of kindness humans made them out to be. They actively supported getting rid of humanity because someone somewhere, who wasn’t even God, had written the Earth only lasted so long. 

Suddenly her faith in her own kind was flagging worse than it did when she was organizing the resistance which she didn’t think was possible. They weren’t even willing to help out the individual they forced a role in their war on. Crowley didn’t volunteer to get pregnant to satisfy their requirements. Yet here was Raphael, too worried about politics to help out an innocent party hurt by their scheming. 

It was all bullshit. She sat there stewing about it until the food was ready.

“Order 226!”

Collecting two bags full of small containers, she left the restaurant to catch a bus back to the bookshop. 

Back at bookshop, Aziraphale studied a bit longer, finding a spell that would increase the amount of energy a celestial being took in. Crowley was technically angel stock, so it should work on him as well. Carefully noting the page on the paper he was taking notes on, he stood up to stretch. He decided he should probably check on Crowley and Rowan while he was up and about. 

Entering the master bedroom, he found them both asleep, Rowan in Crowley’s arms. An empty bottle had fallen from his hand on to the bed itself while another lay on the floor where it either fell or was tossed. It was hard to tell with Crowley. 

Carefully he took up Rowan, sitting on the bed to hold her for a few moments before depositing her in the bassinet. Just as he put her down, he remembered she probably was in serious need of a nappy change. He doubted Crowley had had the strength to do it. Resorting to a little miracle, he gave her a dry one. 

He turned his attention to his husband, who was starting to stir. “Crowley, want to get up for dinner? Lailah’s not here, so I assume I was so into my research she just left to get something.”

“Ok,” the demon managed to get himself upright. His eyes were dull and the dark circles under them spoke of a being who was not completely healthy. 

“Oh, Crowley,” Aziraphale said with concerned tones. He reached forward to caress his demon’s cheek, further reaching forward to kiss him. “We’re going to figure this out and fix it.”

The angel crawled into the bed to sit there beside him, resting his head on Crowley’s shoulder. Crowley put an arm around him. 

“I know. I have faith you will. I don’t feel too bad right now, to be honest.”

“But you’ve slept about fourteen of the last twenty-four hours. That’s not good.”

“I’m a supernatural being, it’s not like it’s going to kill me.”

“It could discorporate you. I don’t want to spend a moment without you. I know we have protection, but still . . . I worry.”

“Don’t. Please? We’ll get it figured out.” Crowley leaned over begging for a kiss. He got it. He always did. 

“You look like you could use a some freshening up. Your hair is awfully sweaty, my dear.” Aziraphale decided to change the subject. “Want me to miracle it clean or would you like a bath?”

“Bath. But I’m so weak. I don’t think I’ll be able to shampoo it myself.” One helpless demon collapsed on to Aziraphale’s lap, looking up at him with the most pathetic look he could muster. 

“Oh, ok, I’ll join you.” With a wave the tub was full of hot water. “I must admit I’m loving being able to miracle whenever I want without worrying about Gabriel reprimanding me for it.”

The angel looked so happy about that, Crowley just had to smile up at him, too. He got up off his lap, making for their private bathroom, Aziraphale trailing behind, noticing that Crowley had a little less bounce in his step than usual. 

“Here,” said Aziraphale turning Crowley around and unbuttoning his pyjama top as soon as they set foot in the bathroom. “Let me do this.”

“I’m not an invalid,” protested Crowley.

“With your energy leaving you faster than you’re gaining it back, yes, you kind of are,” replied Aziraphale. “Now hush.”

He helped the demon out of his shirt, allowing him to take off everything below the waist when he protested it would get awkward to do with him just standing there. While Crowley was getting undressed and into the bath, Aziraphale removed his own clothing and made sure there was plenty of shampoo, soap and conditioner within reach. He next slipped into the tub behind Crowley. 

Rubbing the demon’s shoulders, he asked, “How’s that, my dear?”

“Nice. You could do that all day.” 

“To keep you happy, I would.” Aziraphale squirted some body wash on a bath pouf and carefully loofahed his back. 

Crowley circled his hand in the water, finding its resistance to the movement as relaxing as Aziraphale scrubbing him gently. He rested his other hand on Aziraphale’s knee, tickling playfully. It earned him a half-hearted scolding when it caused the angel to jump slightly. The pouf was replaced by warm water cascading down his back and Aziraphale’s hand brushing off stubborn bubbles that remained behind. The angel then lifted one arm to soap it followed by the other and he wrapped himself around the demon to scrub his chest. 

“How’s that?” Aziraphale whispered in Crowley’s ear.

“You’re going to make me hard, angel.”

“Not my intent, I assure you.” 

He enjoyed pampering his husband, he found, and being pampered in return, although with all the acts of service Crowley had performed for him over the thousands of years they had known each other, he had a lot of catching up to do in the pampering department.

“Next time I get to wash your hair,” Crowley murmured. He loved any excuse to run his hands through Aziraphale’s curls.

Aziraphale was holding the shampoo when Crowley turned to look at him. “Ready to do yours?”

“Yep,” said Crowley.

A sigh escaped his lips as Aziraphale massaged the shampoo into his long red hair, piling the lengths on top of his head. It felt so good to have it touched and Crowley could never get enough of Aziraphale playing with his hair. Then his hands were gone.

“Let’s get you rinsed.”

Crowley obediently tilted his head back, felt the water Aziraphale poured over it run down its length. The angel’s hand combed through its thickness to get all the shampoo out. More water poured over it as he combed, Crowley closing his eyes in contentment. It was almost a rude awakening when Aziraphale announced everything was rinsed out.

“It’s over?”

“Yes, but I’ll dry it for you then I can braid it if you wish.”

“Please?” Crowley climbed out of the tub with Aziraphale, handing his spouse a towel as he grabbed his own. 

They ended up drying each other off more than themselves and when they were finally clothed again, Aziraphale miracled Crowley’s hair dry, picking up a brush and hair tie before leaving the bathroom. They sat on the edge of the bed, Aziraphale behind Crowley while he brushed out his husband’s long hair, leaving it silky smooth and ready to be braided. Pulling the top and sides back, he separated the top layer into three strands and began braiding, adding strands to his work as he went to create a blazing red French braid down the back of Crowley’s head. Tying it off, he reached around to give him a kiss on the cheek. 

“There. I’m done.”

“I like it,” said Crowley, looking in the mirror over the dresser. “If I take it out will you do it again?”

“Crowley!”  
  
The demon practically crawled into his lap. “But I love it when you do my hair. It’s just so . . . I don’t know . . .”

“Touch-starved fiend,” teased Aziraphale. “Oh, I hear Lailah downstairs. Are you hungry?”

“Not really but I know you want me to eat.” Crowley flopped over on to the bed.

“You need to,” said Aziraphale. “And afterwards we’re going to try to fix your energy problem.”

“I want to start cooking again. Sick of takeout.”

“Hopefully you’ll get to here very soon.”

They reluctantly got up from their warm cuddle on the bed to go eat as soon as they heard Lailah open the door and call for them. Aziraphale held Crowley’s hand as they walked together down to the kitchen, Lailah looking up from removing containers from the bags to put on the table along with some plates and silverware.

Crowley was escorted to his seat by Aziraphale, who said he’d get some tea ready. Lailah took one look at the demon and excused herself. 

“Where did she go?” Crowley asked, confused.

“I don’t know,” replied Aziraphale. “Tea ok?”

“Yes, thanks.” Crowley opened up the containers, peering into each one in turn until he found a couple of things to his liking. Spooning some out, he ate a couple of bites before resorting to just poking at things until Aziraphale sat back down. “Now I’m not hungry.”

“You’re going to eat,” said Aziraphale in his best no-nonsense tone while he served himself some rice. “Hopefully tomorrow you’ll feel well enough to cook. I know the takeout’s starting to put you off. You never were one for the stuff anyway.”

“Like you are.”

“At least appreciate what Lailah’s doing for us, all right? You really need to quit acting like a petulant child, sick or not. We’re both trying to help you here. Lose the attitude or you can sleep by yourself tonight.”

“Fine.” Crowley forced a bite into his mouth after his dressing down. He had learned to cook better Chinese. Real Chinese, not that slop they served at takeout restaurants.

Lailah burst back into the kitchen then. “Sorry, had to check something. Crowley, I’m just going to try looping the energy you’re losing back around and encourage your body to slow down on the consumption of it. We’ll try the spell we found later if that doesn’t work.”

“Ok,” said Crowley around a mouthful of rice. 

Aziraphale sighed at his lack of manners right now. It wasn’t like Crowley didn’t possess them or they would have probably found themselves kicked out of the Ritz on at least one occasion. He silently apologized to Lailah, but she knew how Crowley could be.

She was at Crowley’s head concentrating. Aziraphale watched her work as he ate, thinking that she did have the makings of a fine healer, even if her knowledge was limited right now. She stood there silently in front of a still Crowley for a minute or two, convincing energy that was leaving him to reenter. It appeared to even out the drain, buying them time to figure it the root of the problem. With a quick wave, she completed her work.

“There. See how that feels in a few hours.”

“Ok. Thanks.”

“Now eat. I know it’s not your favourite, but you need to.”

With Aziraphale staring him down sternly, the demon uncharacteristically resumed his dinner with a meek look. Lailah, feeling adventurous, poured herself a cup of tea while trying not to smirk. She sipped at it cautiously as Aziraphale pushed the creamer and sugar bowl over her direction.

“A couple of spoonfuls of sugar and just a dash of milk will make it taste better if you don’t like it plain,” he said. “Don’t you think that you’re going anywhere, Crowley. You’re eating at least half of that.”

“I think it would be better with those,” she admitted, pouring in some milk followed by sugar, deciding to ignore the reprimands Aziraphale was giving his sullen spouse. “I think it like it, but it’s not better than a latte.”

Aziraphale laughed. “Of course not. Your first love.” He glanced over at the demon, who had managed to put two bites into his mouth since the last reprimand. 

“Did you do your hair?” Lailah asked Crowley.

“No,” replied Crowley without looking up from his plate. “Aziraphale did.”

The rest of dinner was like that so Lailah was relieved when Rowan needed attention and Aziraphale excused himself to go see to her. Putting her tea down, she turned to Crowley, who had stopped eating the moment he left.

“Did you two have a fight or something?”

“No. He just got all upset at me because I’m still not interested in eating,” Crowley replied. Some of the food vanished from his plate. “You will not tell him because you still owe me from that time I had to repair the book of his you damaged.”

“I won’t say a word, but he’s only looking out for your best interests.”

Lailah had tripped over a pile of books Aziraphale left by his chair in the cottage’s sitting room causing damage to one that Crowley repaired, saving her from having to risk a frivolous miracle. Aziraphale didn’t take well to books getting damaged and he would have been disappointed in her neglect to watch where she was walking. 

“I’m not pregnant anymore. I don’t need to be treated like some fragile thing. We’ll figure this out. We always figure it out.” He sighed and sat there with his hand resting on his chin. 

“If I have been, I’m sorry and I’ll try not to. Just tell me, ok? I’d prefer you not be rude about it.”

Crowley smiled at her. “I can’t make any promises. I am a demon.”

“That’s the best I’m going to get, isn’t it?”

“Pretty much.”

“I’ll take it.”

Crowley kept eating but for every bite he stuck in his mouth, half a bite disappeared from the plate. Lailah just shook her head as she sipped her tea.

“I saw nothing. Not too much now or it’s going to look suspicious.”

“Yeah, you’re right.” He put his fork down.

Aziraphale returned with Rowan several minutes later, the baby looking wide awake. He immediately looked down at Crowley’s plate and raised an eyebrow. 

“Really? Or did you vanish some of it?” he asked.

“I ate some and you’re standing there giving me flack over it? Oh, I see how it is.” Crowley took the baby from him. “I’ll just hold this now until you can be nice to me again. Get your own baby.”

“You seem to forget that is my baby,” said Aziraphale before adding, “too.”

Crowley held Rowan, looking at her closely now that she decided to have her eyes open for a while. “Awake is a good thing, kiddo. Lailah, will she start being awake now more?”

“She should be. It takes three or four days before they settle into a routine between sleep and wakefulness. The first days of life they do sleep a lot. She’ll still sleep like fifteen hours a day though for a couple of months.”

“We’re going to go sit on the couch if anyone wants to join us.”

Having announced that, he took Rowan into the lounge. Lailah and Aziraphale found him curled up on the couch, having a one-sided conversation with her that melted Aziraphale’s heart. He sat himself up against his husband while Lailah took up residence in the chair. She watched them with the baby, happy to see that it was possible for a demon and an angel to love and raise a child. It might have only been about a week, but they were taking their responsibilities seriously, even with the mystery of Crowley’s exhaustion thrown in there. 

“What are we doing tonight?” asked Lailah. 

“Card games?” suggested Aziraphale. “I’d like some variety from watching films, to be honest.”

“Ok,” said Crowley, who had never done more than dabble at the card tables in gambling establishments. Some great tempting could be found there.

So, feeling silly about it, Lailah used her mobile to look up card games three could play and they worked their way through several while drinking wine and coffee. They finally settled on gin rummy after trying out several games with Aziraphale pointedly refusing to play anything named, “Egyptian Rat Screw.”

“I mean, really,” he had said. “It just sounds so vulgar.”

“Ever been to Egypt?” Crowley had asked. “The last time I was people were painting blood on their doors or something and I decided that was too weird and went home. I was only there for the wine.”

“That was the tenth plague, Crowley,” Aziraphale had replied.

“Don’t remind me,” Crowley had miserably retorted. “I know that now and your former side killed a lot of children that night. Can we move on?”

“Of course we can, my dear,” Aziraphale had soothingly said “How about the Reign of Terror?”

Lailah had laughed as she had heard the story of how Aziraphale’s cravings got him locked in the Bastille and how Crowley had come to his rescue. “You two have seen it all.”

Crowley had gazed over at Rowan in her baby swing, rocking gently side-to-side as she gazed up at the mobile made of stars above her. He smiled tenderly. “Yeah, we really have. So, what are we playing next?”

They played well into the night without Crowley tiring much. In fact his eyes looked brighter and he appeared less pale. Aziraphale hoped the stop-gap measure worked while they figured out their next move. The only problem was they had no idea what would be their next move. How did one convince a demon’s body it was no longer pregnant? Demons weren’t even meant to be pregnant. 

Finally, Lailah said it was enough and Crowley should go get some rest. Aziraphale agreed, ushering his spouse off to the bedroom with a good night to their guest. Lailah settled in to do some sketching and maybe watch a film or two.

Crowley looked a bit tired, but he was hanging on to his energy better than he was, which was a good sign. He started to take Aziraphale’s bowtie off once they were in the bedroom, but the angel gently slapped his hand away. He kissed him in apology.

“I’m sorry, but none of that tonight. Your energy levels are building. Let’s allow them to do that without expending extra, shall we?” he said.

“Fine,” said Crowley, who blatantly stripped off all his clothes and climbed into bed without bothering to put on his usual pyjama bottoms. “But don’t expect me to play nice. I just might whisper dirty things in your ear early in the morning and make you want to take me.” He licked his lip with a grin.

Aziraphale shook his head at him as he changed clothes. “Just go to sleep for now, my dear.”

“Killjoy.”

“Oh, I know you think otherwise.”


	5. Recovery

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Lailah began to seethe. “Dammit, Raph. The Host did this to Crowley. The least the leadership around here can do is try to correct it. Yet you sit here and refuse to help someone in medical need. What about your oath?”_
> 
> _Raphael looked up at her from his desk, his gaze steady. “The demon is not my patient. I owe him nothing. Think of him as a casualty of war. Medics don’t patch up those fighting on the opposite side.”_
> 
> They may have a stopgap measure in place, but Aziraphale and Lailah know Crowley won't be out of the woods without a true solution to his energy drain. Lailah pleads Heaven for help only to discover how cruel angels can be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's a light BDSM scene in this chapter.

Aziraphale had reopened the bookshop several days later, planning on going back to his half days there now that they had a little breathing room with Crowley’s energy drain. The demon in question watched the baby with Lailah’s help. It was actually nice to have company that one could have a conversation with.

Currently they were sitting at the kitchen table each with a mug of coffee. Lailah was showing her still life drawings to Crowley, who very much appreciated art. He was carefully flipping through her sketchbooks, spending a long time looking at each drawing. 

“You’re good,” he told her as he gazed upon a drawing of a vine climbing an old watering can covered in dew drops. “You don’t need to limit yourself to still life, either. Take a risk. Expand your repertoire.”

“You think I should?” she asked, surprised the demon was giving her advice.

“Don’t make me get sarcastic with you. Of course I do.”

“I like still lives. Everything here is so short-lived. I like drawing the plant life and making it ethereal.”

“It’s a good life here, but if you hang around, you shouldn’t get too attached to the individual humans,” he said. There was a bit of a sad tone in his voice.

“You worry.”

“About what?”

“Rowan.” She looked over at the bouncy seat on the floor near the table where Rowan slept ensconced in its soft grey fabric. 

“Yes. Aziraphale and I have each other. She has us, but what if she wants love?”

“I don’t know, but it’s a little too soon to ponder that, don’t you think? Enjoy her while she’s young,” Lailah replied. “And I got permission to stay as long as needed to get this problem of yours solved, so don’t worry about that either.”

Crowley smiled. “You should draw him. I have pictures. Take them when I can sneak one on my mobile because he so hates having his picture taken. But they never quite capture who he is . . . his cute smile and adorable nose. The way he loves food and how he can sit so still to read a book. How he’s the most innocent being ever one minute and a right bastard the next . . .”

“Shall I leave you alone with your daydream?”

“Oh, shut up.”

Lailah chuckled. “I’ll try to draw Aziraphale, but it’s a tall order to fit all that into one sketch, especially my first one of a subject who isn’t a plant.” She paused a moment. “So that’s love?”

“What’s love?” he asked, confused.

“Cute smiles and noses. What he likes, his activities and how he can go from innocent to bastard in no time flat. Is that love?”

Crowley’s brow furrowed a moment. “It’s that and more. I can’t really explain love. We click. To the point it would be impossible to live without him.”

“I just can’t understand that kind of love. I can understand it from the angel point of view and that’s it.”

Crowley shrugged. “I wouldn’t worry about it. I think it comes of us being on Earth too damn long. We’re abnormal in so many different ways now. Just keep being you. You don’t need to be us.”

“I don’t feel I fit much anywhere.”

“You’ll find your place,” Crowley replied as Rowan started to cry. “I was suited to neither Heaven nor Hell, but I found where I belong. You will, too.”

He picked up the baby, cooing at her in a completely un-Crowley-like manner and headed to the couch to feed her a bottle. Lailah gazed after him before losing herself in her own thoughts. Maybe he was right and she wasn’t meant to understand what they had. They were created to be different and she . . . well . . . she was created as just another angel. And she’d have to go back to being just another angel when they figured out what was causing Crowley’s problems.

The problem was Lailah didn’t want to be “just another angel.”

She headed out of the kitchen to the lounge, grabbing her jacket off the coat stand by the door. “I’m heading out to take a walk. I have my cell with me so call if you need anything.”

“Ok,” said Crowley. “But I think we’ll be fine. Have fun.”

He played with Rowan until she needed another nap, but he found he didn’t feel like sleeping for the first time in a few days. Wandering back into the kitchen, he planned dinner and stated to cook it. It was a simple shepherd’s pie, but he was heeding Aziraphale’s advice and not overdoing it. 

He got the potatoes peeled and boiling then concentrated on chopping carrots and onions for the mixture. Dumping them in a pan with a touch of oil, he sautéed them for the lamb mixture. Lamb he magically shoplifted from a nearby store, leaving some money in the till to avoid another lecture from his husband. Dumping the meat in with the vegetables, he browned that before adding other ingredients and seasonings for a sauce. It felt so good to be cooking again. Satisfied with his work, he allowed the potatoes to finish boiling and the lamb and sauce mixture to cook and thicken.

He loved cooking for Aziraphale. The angel appreciated his efforts so much and it was a pleasure to watch Aziraphale enjoy the fruits of his labours. Crowley smiled to think about it, then decided that was enough daydreaming because there was dinner to finish. 

Potatoes finally mashed and mixed with a bit of milk to keep them creamy, he poured the lamb and vegetables in a baking dish and topped it with them. He looked at the time. Aziraphale would be up in about an hour since he opened the shop rather late today. Perfect. Shoving the dish in the oven he set it to bake for that hour.

He didn’t even feel that tired which was amazing. Mindful that he still wasn’t one hundred percent, he sat on the couch to rest where he fiddled with his mobile. 

While Crowley was busy in the kitchen, Lailah wandered with the crowds on the streets of Soho deep in thought. 

_What right have I to be resentful of my role in Heaven? Crowley Fell not because he deserved to but because he needed to be in the right place at the right time to save the world. The suffering of one individual versus the fate of an entire planet. Yet it still doesn’t seem fair. I don’t have some Grand Destiny like that. I’m just resentful because some people don’t happen to like me anymore. Am I being petty?_

But it wasn’t just that. It was what Crowley and Aziraphale had here on Earth. It was such a wonderful place full of all manner of things to experience and explore. Heaven, by comparison, was rather stagnant. Oh, it mimicked Earth somewhat because angels had no imagination, but it was a poor imitation once you experienced the real thing.

A breeze was picking up and she pulled her green coat closer around her. She was starting to use colour to separate herself somewhat from the other angels. Even Aziraphale stuck to mostly whites, beiges and lighter blues even though he had parted ways with Heaven. Lailah, even though she still wore beige trousers, had started pairing them with green tops that matched her eyes. Down here on Earth, she had paired her green top with a coat that was a shade darker. Most angels stuck with beiges or greys with maybe a bit of an accent colour, like Gabriel with his lilac tie. Showing up to the office wearing a blouse of a pale apple green shade was unheard of until she started doing it.

Feeling conflicted, she turned to start walking back to the bookshop.

Opening the bookshop door, she noticed Aziraphale was getting ready to close and she knew why. She could smell Crowley’s cooking the moment she walked inside. It was nice to see that looping energy had worked for him. She really wanted to study him more to see what would work with actually solving the problem, but she wondered how much intrusion he’d tolerate.

“Hey,” she said to Aziraphale who was at the till. “I notice someone’s back to his old habits.”

“And I’m glad he is,” replied the Principality. “In more than one way. I’m done down here. Shall we?” He closed the roller blinds and locked the door before accompanying Lailah upstairs. “How was your walk?”

“I guess it was ok. I have some things to figure out,” she replied.

“I won’t pry, but I’m here if you need someone to talk to.”

“Thanks.”

They entered the flat to find Crowley taking care of his plants, quietly for once. Aziraphale was extremely happy to see him up and about. He greeted him with a hug and kiss before taking his head in his hands and looking him over.

“I feel fine, angel.”

“We still have to find the root cause.”

“I know, but do that when you’re down in the bookshop, not right before dinner.”

Lailah waved at Crowley before going to get her sketch pad. She figured she could sit in the lounge and get some good sketches of Aziraphale going. If she was going to draw a picture of him for Crowley, she was going to do it right. If she sat in the chair facing the kitchen, she could see him quite well over the breakfast bar while they ate dinner. To hide what she was doing, she put a small potted plant in front of her on the coffee table.

“I’m just going to sketch if you boys don’t mind,” she said, winking at Crowley. He gave her a slight smile in return, hidden from Aziraphale.

“That’s fine, my dear girl,” said Aziraphale as he set the table. “But if you want to give eating a try or just sit with us, feel free. Crowley, Pinot Noir or Chardonnay?”

“Chardonnay, I’d think, but you choose. Both work with it.” Crowley was at the counter plating two pieces of the shepherd’s pie for them. He brought them over to the table, sitting down with his husband.

Lailah just observed Aziraphale while they ate, noting his facial features, his exact hair colour and texture, the emotions that crossed his face as he spoke with Crowley. She did a few quick drawings of him, practicing eyes, ears and noses, and finding human facial features could be hard to get right. Sighing in frustration she tried again and again until she heard the clatter of dishes, indicating they were done with dinner.

“Do you need any help?”

“We’re fine, thanks Lailah,” Aziraphale said.

“If you two don’t need me tonight, there’s something I’d like to do,” she said getting up from the chair. 

“We’ll be fine, Lailah. You’re not our servant,” replied Aziraphale. 

“Be nice if you were, actually,” joked Crowley, earning him a glare from his husband.

“I’ll see you later.” Grabbing her coat, she left.

Crowley watched her go. “That was odd,” he said as he put the miracled-clean plates away. “But when Rowan’s napping, we have time to ourselves.” 

He backed Aziraphale against the counter for a quick make-out session. Hands all over his angel, he kissed him tongue flicking in and out of his mouth. Aziraphale groaned softly against his mouth, his own hands going to Crowley’s arse, pulling the demon’s hips against his own. There they stayed for several minutes until fate stepped in.

“Can we convince her she doesn’t need to eat?” Crowley whispered as he kept up his nibbling of Aziraphale’s ear before reluctantly letting his husband step away from the counter to get a bottle from the fridge.

“It’ll only take a minute. And if she doesn’t go back to sleep, we can just have a nice snog on the couch while she relaxes in her swing,” he said.

Crowley still wasn’t happy about the interruption.

~*~*~

Lailah stalked through Head Offices, heading for Raphael’s office, hoping he was there rather than over at the Healing Centre. Ignoring the unwelcoming and downright hostile looks thrown her way, she noticed his receptionist wasn’t in, but his door was open. She knocked on it and he looked up.

“What are you doing here? Don’t you have work to be doing with that demon?” he asked.

“Yes, but it occurred to me if this is happening because of that spell put on him, then I need a copy of it to study. See where the energy drain might be coming from,” she replied.

“Nobody has access to it anymore, except the Metatron and good luck getting him to allow you see it.”

“Well, not me, but maybe you.”

“No.”

Lailah began to seethe. “Dammit, Raph. The Host did this to Crowley. The least the leadership around here can do is try to correct it. Yet you sit here and refuse to help someone in medical need. What about your oath?”

Raphael looked up at her from his desk, his gaze steady. “The demon is not my patient. I owe him nothing. Think of him as a casualty of war. Medics don’t patch up those fighting on the opposite side.”

Lailah couldn’t believe what she was hearing. “On the opposite side? Are you kidding me? He and Aziraphale were innocent bystanders the Host and the Horde decided to use for their own purposes. The events of Tadfield were over before that plan was made and they were just living their own lives, for Heaven’s sake. This is more like a medic refusing to help civilians injured by the army’s own bombs!”

“He and Aziraphale chose to stand against us, as much as I disagreed with the whole plan to use that spell to force them to reproduce.”

“Do you even hear yourself?” Lailah all but yelled.

“Keep your voice down. The entire section doesn’t need to hear this argument!” Raphael snapped. “Now you can either go talk to the Metatron or find solutions yourself. This is _your_ problem. Don’t involve me.”

He stood up and gestured at the door, indicating he didn’t want to talk further about it. Frustrated and feeling defeated, Lailah stormed out. She stood out in the sterile reception area almost in tears at the heartless attitude. Pulling herself together, she wiped her eyes and took a few breaths before heading to the elevators that would take her up to the Metatron’s office. She smiled slightly upon realizing Crowley would snap at her for not calling them “lifts.”

She got on, lucky enough to get one that had no passengers. Pushing the button to the near-top floor, the elevator started its climb. The Metatron was important enough to have a floor to himself, entirely devoted to him and all his staff. The car came to a halt on it. Exiting into the reception area, she approached the desk where a bored angel sat. 

“The answer’s no,” they said without looking up. “You do not have an appointment, therefore you cannot see the Metatron and he’s not going to take time out of his busy schedule to meet with a nobody who tried to start another revolt.”

“This isn’t about me,” Lailah replied. “This is about an innocent party that fertility spell hurt when it was cast on him. I need access to that spell so I can see if I have the ability to counter what’s going on.”

“The demon Crowley is hardly what anyone up here would call an innocent party,” the angel replied, finally making eye contact. “The answer is still no. Have a good day.”

“I need to talk to him now. This is ridiculous.”

Lailah attempted to walk past the desk, only to be stopped by security angels and escorted back to the elevators. Roughly shoved in one heading down, she leaned on wall in defeat wondering if this was serious enough to take to God or not. She was not paying attention when the doors opened, jumping in surprise when she found herself surrounded by angry-looking angels.

“Look who’s back. So . . . enjoying your time with that traitor Aziraphale and his demon lover?” one of them asked snidely. “I hear the demon clutched a snake. Is that true?”

She was trapped. Nowhere to go. Lailah put her hands up to protect herself. “I don’t want trouble here. I just came up for some quick business. I need to get back now . . . “

“Got to take care of the little snake baby? So, does it have wings?” The three others present laughed as the one doing the speaking grabbed her by the arm and yanked her out of the elevator. “Here, let me help you get back to Earth.”

They dragged her to the escalators shoving her on the down one roughly. She caught herself on the glass railing before she fell face-first on the stairs themselves as they silently slid downwards. She was pretty sure she did jam a finger or two, but that was far better than tumbling down the grated escalator as it traveled towards the Earth-side lobby.

“Say hi to everyone for us!” they taunted from above before going off to run whatever errands they were on.

Feeling humiliated, with tears burning in her eyes, she quickly brushed them off on her sleeve and ran out of the building. She headed to the nearest coffee shop where she would spend several hours before returning to the bookshop.

~*~*~

Aziraphale and Crowley were currently sitting on the couch enjoying each other’s company. Or Aziraphale was straddling Crowley’s lap while they snogged, more like it. Crowley touched Aziraphale’s hip, vanishing the last piece of the clothing the angel wore. He hadn’t taken a stitch off, himself, but he did sometimes enjoy such a contrast. 

Fueled by the whole situation that turned him on, he reached down to stroke Aziraphale’s erection, gently running his long fingers over it. He looked up at Aziraphale with a smile on his face. 

“What shall I do to you, angel?” he asked. “I kind of want to bend you over the kitchen table and take you. Or the desk in my office would work. I could tie you to the chair.”

“That overly dramatic throne of yours?” breathed Aziraphale, twisting under Crowley’s light touch.

“That’s it. If you’re going to make fun of it, you can spend time being tortured in it.”

“Oh dear, whatever shall I do?”

The scenery changed and Aziraphale found himself bound to that very chair, hands above his head, ankles cuffed to its legs. Crowley, still fully dressed, was soon kneeling between his legs working an angle of his own. Aziraphale writhed in response, thinking to himself how incredibly _good_ it felt and how long it had been since he had had a blow job. He closed his eyes and just felt what Crowley was doing to him with his clever tongue. He hummed in pleasure, sometimes a gasp punctuating the air as Crowley’s antics made him jump.

Human bodies were amazing; the sensations, the connection between what Crowley was doing to his cock and his brain and all sort of other little mechanisms that were in play that he would never quite understand. How could a few random body parts produce such pleasures? A nip from Crowley along the ridge of his cock brought him back to current events. With a gasp he opened his eyes to find his husband’s twinkling at him with amusement. Forgetting he was tied the chair, he attempted to move his hand to caress Crowley’s red hair and growled in frustration to find he was denied. 

He could feel things building. Not much longer and the erotic sensations would push him over the edge. He squirmed in response, moaning hoarsely. Crowley, the bastard, pulled off.

“None of that.”

Aziraphale bucked against his bonds in frustration. With a rather devious grin, Crowley was at it again. Flicking his tongue out, he licked the entirety of Aziraphale’s cock, his fingers occasionally going up to lightly brush his balls. Aziraphale couldn’t take it. He whined softly as Crowley continued his assault, feeling like he was going to discorporate from the pleasure. Finally the demon started sucking aggressively; the angel feeling like he was going to come undone.

And then he felt nothing, crying out in his annoyance. He writhed against his bonds. Crowley chuckled.

“Careful, angel. You’re going to have marks if you keep that up.”

“Please, just let me finish,” Aziraphale begged. “Please, Crowley.”

Golden serpentine eyes regarded him lazily. “I don’t know, should I?”

“Yes.” 

Aziraphale was suddenly free of his bonds and on top of Crowley on the desk, his wings out and spread in a display of dominance. The surprised demon stared up at him, astonished to find his bare back against the cold surface of his desk as his mate pinned his wrists down, growling ferally. This was a new look for the angel, innocent, demure being that he was. Crowley broke into a smile.

“I hope you didn’t vanish my clothes to the Caribbean again. It was a bitch to find them, although they did come back nice and warm . . .”

“They’re over there on the floor. Now hush, Crowley.” Aziraphale made sure he was quiet by crushing his mouth against his in a hard kiss. Lust was getting in the best of him. 

He shoved roughly into Crowley determined to use the demon after the bastard edged him like that. But he realized this might very much be the outcome Crowley was looking for and he just played into his hands. He didn’t care. He kept his husband’s wrists pinned down, pumping hard into him with a little help from well-placed beats of his wings. 

Crowley, on the other hand, was quickly melting into a puddle of goo thanks to all the sexual attention he was receiving. It was getting hard for him to keep his hips raised or to keep up with the pace Aziraphale had set. He finally gave up, resorting to using his mouth to show Aziraphale he was involved and interested in their activities. When Aziraphale finally shifted, letting up Crowley’s wrists, he gripped the angel’s shoulders tightly, fingernails digging in. Welts caused by scratches covered Aziraphale’s chest and shoulders, a few bite marks reddened on his collarbones. Crowley had a red cheek from a slap he received for biting entirely too hard. Currently, the demon had a hand tangled painfully in Aziraphale’s hair, but the pain only fueled the angel. He was a bit of a masochist. 

“I’m going to finish whether you’re ready for it or not. I don’t care if you cum,” he all but snarled at the demon beneath him. Such words always got Crowley to climax. He loved being talked to in such a manner.

Primal and loud, they both orgasmed, Aziraphale biting into Crowley’s shoulder while Crowley pierced Aziraphale’s sides with his nails as wing feathers brushed his knuckles. Then the door creaked open and the angel threw a hand over his husband’s mouth, becoming quiet himself.

“Lailah’s back,” he whispered, unnecessarily. Nobody else would be able to enter their home.

They quickly finished up, winching in wings in Aziraphale’s case and miracling themselves clean and clothed. Crowley sat in the chair while Aziraphale leaned against the desk next to him, wishing the door mostly open as they heard Lailah move through the lounge.

“Guys! You home?”

“We’re in here!” Aziraphale called before whispering to Crowley. “Take care of your cheek. It’s still red.”

“Oh.” The redness disappeared.

“You’re back early,” said Aziraphale as Lailah walked in. 

“Yeah, well . . . they wouldn’t let me see what I went up there to see,” she replied. “Can we talk somewhere with more seating?”

“Sure,” Aziraphale said and followed her out to the lounge, Crowley trailing behind them.

“What’s up, my dear?” asked Aziraphale after he had settled on the couch with Crowley.

Lailah looked helplessly at them from the chair she settled on the edge of. “I headed back to Heaven just to ask to look at the spell they used on you two to produce Rowan. I thought it would help us with Crowley’s energy issues, but I was refused. Raphael wouldn’t help me out by requesting it even though he had the best chance if he’d just advocate for me to the Metatron. But he wouldn’t and the Metatron has the only access to the spell. I can’t even get past reception at his office.”

“Hey, you tried,” said Crowley. “We’ll figure it out. We always figure it out and what you did worked nicely because I feel a lot better than I did before.”

Aziraphale could have beamed at his husband he was so proud of how understanding and empathic he was being towards Lailah right now. He knew the demon struggled with that many a time.

Lailah smiled. “You two are so understanding. I wish I could stay down here forever. Is there any way you could make me a bedroom? I guess I just need a place to be alone for a while.”

Aziraphale looked at Crowley who nodded. 

“Not a problem,” the angel replied. “Second door on the left. Furnish it however you like.” 

“Thanks, guys.” She retreated to her new room.

“We’ll solve this without them. I have a feeling there are answers to our questions out there. We just need to find similar cases and find ways to apply them,” said Aziraphale. “I just wish she’d stay down here and not go back up to Heaven. I have a feeling more is going on than she lets on.”

“Yeah,” replied Crowley, stifling a yawn.


	6. Relapse

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Sensing more energy coming into Crowley, the drain increased, picking up to the point that a torrent of it was draining off of him while only a trickle was returning. Panicking, Aziraphale attempted to make corrections. He could feel Crowley starting to collapse beneath his hands. The demon’s arms, which had been laying gently on Aziraphale’s sides suddenly cling to him before losing purchase and sliding off entirely. He felt his head sag beneath his hands._
> 
> _“No, Crowley! Hang on. Just hang on. I’ll correct it. Let me work. Give me time to work. Crowley!”_

Aziraphale was getting the kettle ready a couple of days later, preparing breakfast before he headed downstairs for the day. Crowley was having a lie-in again and Aziraphale was feeling like they needed to use the spell they found a few days ago on him. When he had shifted his vision to check his husband that morning, he saw that he was back to consuming more energy than he was producing. It worried Aziraphale terribly. What if the spell backfired as well?

“Morning.”

Aziraphale startled momentarily, turning around to find Crowley standing there waiting for a kiss. He obliged. Crowley was holding Rowan, who was two weeks old today. She spent more time awake and alert now and was sleeping for four-hour stretches instead of two. 

“How are you feeling?” Aziraphale asked. 

“I’m ok. A little tired, but eh . . .”

“I’m going to do that spell on you. Go sit in the lounge, I’ll get the book.”

While Aziraphale got the book, Crowley placed Rowan in her swing. Strapping her in, he smiled at the small being who was regarding him with a quiet but alert gaze. He tickled her cheek, feeling that soft skin and smelling that newborn baby scent she seemed to always have. Her umbilical stub had finally fallen off and they were finally going to give her her first real bath today. It was something he was actually looking forward to, strangely enough. This small thing had turned their lives upside down. 

Funny how everything could change. 

“You’ve made me soft, you know that?” he told her as he started the swing. 

“You were soft to begin with, you just buried it deep and refused to acknowledge it,” replied Aziraphale, who had returned with the spell book. “Ready?”

“I guess. I hate feeling like some kind of test subject but that’s what I’ve been for the better part of a year.”

“I’m sorry, my dear. We’re going to solve this.” Aziraphale did the work he needed to and stepped back, waiting to hear from Crowley if things felt different.

“I’m not feeling anything, but I’ll let you know in a couple of hours.” He went back to the kitchen. “I can do breakfast. The drain’s not as bad as last time.”

He made a frittata for them along with some sausages and feeling a little defiant in light of his current problems, decided a Victoria sponge cake would be perfect for tea, which Aziraphale had a fondness for. Crowley, despite liking to eat, never quite saw the point to an extra meal like that, but he wasn’t quite the foodie his husband was. Shoving the cake rounds in the oven to bake, he called Aziraphale for breakfast. 

“You’re baking again, aren’t you?” the angel asked. “Don’t wear yourself out now.”

“I won’t. But I need to do something around here. Especially since it appears I’ve become the supernatural version of a stay-at-home dad,” Crowley said, helping himself to some of the eggs. “Much to my own chagrin.”

“You’ll be taking her around for drives in the Bentley, to art museums and restaurants serving _haute cuisine_ in no time, so hardly a typical one.” 

“Good. I’d hate to be normal. Besides we’re going to have to deal with flying lessons and not the kind humans think about.”

Aziraphale stirred some sugar in his tea. “I wonder what her wings look like. Are they black? White? A shade of grey since she seems to be a good mix of us both?”

“We could peek,” suggested Crowley. “Pull them out of the celestial plane to look.”

“No. It’s probably best she’s unaware of them for now. We don’t need her popping them out at inappropriate times.”

“Angel, she’s barely aware her own limbs are attached to her.”

“Exactly and she waves those around with wild abandon still. Do we need her manifesting wings she’s barely aware of in front of humans?”

“Good point.” Crowley hated to wait for anything, but this time he saw the logic in it. “She hits herself in the face on a regular basis. Can you imagine what she’d do with wings?”

“I don’t think I want to.” Aziraphale sighed. “I just don’t want to open the bookshop today.” He picked up his plate that he had miracled clean and put it away in the cabinet with the others. “But I promised myself I’d make a go at having a profitable business.”

“You know you don’t have to. I have no qualms about printing all the money we need,” said Crowley. “You could always cut your hours. Like be open only three or four days a week. I’d volunteer to help, but I’d just scare off customers. I’m not exactly the most patient of people.”

Aziraphale chuckled at that and pulled Crowley in close for a quick snog. It was so hard to leave him when they were standing here touching and kissing, and he was breathing in his scent while running fingers through his hair. The angel mumbled something about having to go, but didn’t let go and neither did Crowley. Finally he pulled back reluctantly with a regretful smile.

“I’m sorry, love. I’ll be back up around four.” 

“See you then, angel.”

Crowley was finishing cleaning up when Lailah wandered in wearing a long shirt and a pair of leggings. Her long brown hair was out of its ponytail and mussed while she herself looked groggy. The demon stared at her a moment before moving out of her way so she could reach the espresso machine. She didn’t seem to notice him.

“Did you sleep?” he asked.

She jumped at the sound of his voice. “Maybe I did. What’s it to you?”

“Just asking. No need to get defensive about it,” Crowley replied. “Did you like it?”

“Never doing it again. Dreams are weird,” she muttered, fumbling with the controls on the machine as she placed a mug under it.

“You get used to them. I slept for a few decades once.” Crowley was at the cooker, wishing the bowls, pans and other utensils he used to make breakfast clean.

“Why?”

“It seemed liked a good idea at the time. Aziraphale and I had just had a big old fight over holy water, so I got really drunk, fell asleep and didn’t wake up for a few years. It happens.” He shrugged, acting like that was normal human behaviour.

Lailah just looked at him while the machine was brewing. “Yeah, common occurrence I bet. You’re just odd, you know that?”

The oven beeped then, prompting Crowley to remove the cakes he baked and set them on a rack to cool. He’d have to make some buttercream later for part of the filling, the other part being raspberry jam. That shouldn’t take too much energy of his to do. Besides, they needed to cool first. He inwardly rolled his eyes at such thoughts. He was sitting here planning his day around how much energy he would have to get done what he wanted and needed to get done. How did humans do it?

“Well aware. I’m going to go lie down for a bit. Aziraphale did that spell on me but that was only about an hour ago. I don’t think it’s taken hold yet.”

“Sleep well. I’ll hold the fort here,” she replied.

“Such weird turns of phrase you American types have.”

“I’m as American as you are English. Now shoo.”

Crowley sauntered off to the master bedroom. Laying down in the bed, he allowed himself to sink in while he pulled up the blankets. It felt so good even though he had only been up a few hours. He so hoped this spell of Aziraphale’s took because he really wanted to get back to actually living his life rather than involuntarily sleeping it away. He set his alarm on his mobile to wake him up in a couple of hours so he could finish that cake.

He woke up to the sound of the alarm blaring on the nightstand beside him, groaning as he picked up his mobile to shut it off. Rolling over he buried himself deeper in the blankets not really wanting to get up. He didn’t feel any better, yet he didn’t feel any worse, either. “Meh” seemed to be the best description he could put to his energy levels. He decided that was an improvement on waking up feeling like he’d just run a mile or two. Maybe it just took some time for the spell to hit full capacity.

He wandered out to find Lailah and Aziraphale sitting at the table with mugs in front of them, Aziraphale holding Rowan whose little fists waved around in the jerky manner of newborns everywhere. He turned his head to smile at her and noticed Crowley coming in from the lounge. 

“I’m just taking fifteen minutes to have a quick lunch, but I’m glad to see you up,” he said. “How do you feel?”

“No better, but no worse.” Crowley nuzzled his husband from behind, placing a kiss on his cheek. 

“I hope that means the spell’s starting to take. I’m doing some reading up on energy drains during lulls in business, so hopefully I’ll find answers soon.”

“You closing up around tea?” Crowley asked. “I made a Victoria sponge cake for you since I know you like them.”

“Thank you, my dear. I think I will. It’s been raining on and off so business is a bit slow.”

“You run a second-hand bookshop, isn’t it always slow?” asked Crowley innocently as he put on a pot of coffee. He felt like something stronger than tea. 

“Oh, hush, Crowley,” Aziraphale said with a fond smile. He’d gotten used to the teasing over the years and never let it get to him anymore. 

“You two are something else,” commented Lailah before putting her mug back up by the espresso machine where she kept it. Walking back to the table, she gave each of them a kiss on the cheek. “But it’s so cute and I love you to death. It’s nice to have family.”

She walked down the hall to her bedroom where she planned on working on some sketches of not only Aziraphale, but Crowley and the baby as well. She had discreetly snapped a few photos of Crowley _sans_ sunglasses and gotten a few of Rowan with her eyes open. Sitting down in her chair at the desk she created, she got to work.

Family was such a foreign concept, but she felt complete with it. What a strange feeling. She was regretting having to return to Heaven because she now understood what Aziraphale said about everything he wanted or needed being here on Earth. She was beginning to feel the exact same way. 

~*~*~

From Her section of Heaven, God watched the events in the flat above the bookshop and Lailah’s experiences in Heaven unfold. If only they would ask for help, She would give it, but She could not break Her own rules by acting on her own. 

Checking possible futures, she figured she could put a stop to the physical bullying without causing too many waves that could harm the fragile free will that was starting to grow in the Host. She left to go find the Metatron, finding him reading some files in one of the gardens scattered throughout Heaven for the angels’ enjoyment.

“There you are,” She said to him. 

He stood up respectfully. “What can I do for you, Lord?”

“Angels physically assaulted Lailah. That type of behaviour is not appropriate for any member of the Host to be engaging in. Also, you will hand that spell over to Lailah and Aziraphale. I apparently haven’t made it clear enough that Crowley and Aziraphale are under my protection and no harm will come to them.”

“I . . . I can’t give them the spell, Lord.”

“Why not?” She snapped, growing impatient.

“I deemed it too dangerous to have around so had it destroyed.”

Her eyes, made up entirely of nebulas against darkness, flared. “You had no right to make such a decision. You’re relived of duty. You can join Gabriel in spending a millennium performing lower-ranking work.”

She swept from the garden. There was nothing more She could do now without butting too far into events and risking the fragile free will that had started to be created in the Host. They would have to come to Her. She hoped they would or Crowley would discorporate. His spirit would return to Her like promised, but She knew it would come to Her damaged enough he’d require several months to a couple of years of healing before he was fit for a body. Even She couldn’t always do things instantaneously and while Aziraphale could wait without it harming his relationship with his husband, being absent that long would damage Crowley’s bond with Rowan. It would be repairable, but it was still more heartache and they didn’t need that. Plus she didn’t know how well Crowley would take to not only being in Heaven, but being healed by the one who created him to be damned to Hell for thousands of years just to give Earth a fighting chance.

She hoped it wouldn’t come to that.

~*~*~

An angel and a demon bent over the baby bathtub situated on the kitchen table containing their screaming offspring, contemplating their next move. Aziraphale finally carefully shampooed her head while Crowley looked on, holding in his hand a damp washcloth. Lailah watched it all from the breakfast bar finding their tentative approach both amusing and charming. They were trying so hard not to be incompetent, but so unsure if they were actually succeeding. From her observations of many parents and babies over many millennia now, they were doing just fine for first time parents.

Crowley had grabbed his mobile for a few pictures, nearly dropping it in the tub in the process. He turned to Lailah. “Laugh and I’ll get rid of your espresso machine.”

She shrugged in reply, a smile on her face.

“Crowley, dear, I really need you to lift her up so I can rinse her head.”

The demon picked up the wriggling baby who was now even more upset that she was out of the warm water and into the cold air. He used a small demonic miracle to warm her, calming her somewhat. She still wasn’t completely happy about being unwrapped and subjected to such indignities as a bath. A squawk emitted from her as Aziraphale carefully poured water over her soapy head, gently rinsing out the soap bubbles.

“Now that we’ve had this experience,” said Crowley as he set her down in the water again. “I think we can miracle her clean until she’s ready to actually enjoy baths.”

“We can’t just do everything the easy way,” protested Aziraphale as he soaped up as much of Rowan as was out of the water.

“Why not?” asked Crowley. He wiped the soap off their daughter with the washcloth he held. 

“Because we just can’t. Look, she seems to like that.”

Rowan responded to the touch of the washcloth by calming down. Crowley gently wiped it repeatedly over her belly. She uncurled her limbs a bit more, waved her arms around and made a sound close to a coo.

“Huh, she does.”

Lailah approached with a fluffy towel. “You guys done? You don’t want her to get too cold. It’s not good.”

“It’s not like she’s going to get sick. She’s angel and demon stock,” replied Crowley.

“We don’t know that,” said Lailah. “She does act rather human.”

“And I wish she’d stop that,” said Crowley, lifting her out of the tub while Lailah wrapped the towel around her. Aziraphale looked on wearing that cherubic expression he always displayed when he thought something was absolutely adorable. 

“Aziraphale, you take her. Crowley, come sit down.” Lailah handed off the baby, gesturing to the demon to come sit in the lounge. 

“I’m. Fine.”

“You’re starting to look like death warmed over . . .”

“There’s something I’d like to see.”

“Crowley!” Lailah burst out impatiently. “Knock it off. You’re getting on my nerves. The spell’s working, but I can plainly see with what little healer’s training I have that you’re starting to push yourself. Sit down for a bit. Let your energy levels replenish.”

He did, but mostly only to keep Aziraphale happy. Sitting in the chair facing the kitchen, he watched his husband dress their daughter in a pink sleepsuit with frills on the butt. They were going to confuse the kid with their polar opposite tastes in fashion. Not that Aziraphale had what anyone would consider fashion sense. At least he wasn’t dressing Rowan in the long, white gowns infants wore in the Victorian era. Crowley would have put his foot down had that occurred.

“She’s asleep,” Aziraphale said after a minute or two of rocking her gently in his arms. “I’m going to go put her in her cot.”

Crowley made some quick curry for dinner after that but as they ate, he just picked at his food. Aziraphale noticed.

“You ok?”

“I shouldn’t have had a slice of that cake, I guess,” Crowley replied. “I feel fine, just not hungry.”

“We’d better keep an eye on it just in case.”

“Do you want more? There’s plenty left.”

“No thanks, my dear. I’m full.”

They spent the night talking and drinking while a film played ignored in the background. Lailah, who did have a few funny stories of her own to share of the times she had spent on Earth, listened way more than she spoke. Most of her time was spent laughing at the adventures of Aziraphale and Crowley over the thousands of years they had been on Earth.

“I swear you two devoted more time and effort to not doing what you were assigned to do rather than just doing your jobs.”

“We just cancelled each other out,” said Crowley as he sipped from his wine glass.

“Don’t look at me. The Arrangement was his idea,” said Aziraphale.

“Oh, but you went along with it, angel.”

And so it went until about eleven when Crowley decided to head off to bed. Lailah discreetly checked him again. He wasn’t losing energy at the rates he was, but it was still outstripping his intake. She decided that tomorrow maybe it would be a good idea to redo the looping spell as well and see if the two combined would keep him from operating at a negative. 

Aziraphale kissed him good night, telling him he’d be in later. Once the bedroom door shut, he turned to Lailah. “If you wouldn’t mind staying in here with Rowan, I’ll head out to do more research.”

“Not at all. Go do what you need to.”

Down the hall, Crowley had changed into his pyjama bottoms, climbed into bed and fallen asleep as soon as his head hit the pillow. He slept so soundly he didn’t even recall dreaming. A few hours later, he halfway roused when Aziraphale jostled the bed getting in and turning on the baby monitor. Rolling over to flop on to his angel, Crowley fell asleep again in short order. He didn’t even wake up when Aziraphale wiggled out from under him to tend to Rowan.

The angel shook him awake some time later to ask about breakfast but Crowley just turned over, mumbling before going back to sleep. A worried Aziraphale let him be for now, planning on looping his energy like Lailah did when the demon was finally up and around.

Grabbing a quick breakfast, he went down to open the bookshop for at least the morning. The afternoon would be booked taking care of Crowley -- performing the spell and making sure everything went all right.

Lailah watched Rowan until Crowley woke up and stumbled to the kitchen for something quick to eat and a couple of cups of coffee. Tea was not going to do it today. He sat at the table, head in hand, picking at the pastries he was eating. 

The baby secured in her bouncy seat next to Crowley’s chair, he looked tiredly at her, trying to get food into his system for her sake. He couldn’t care for an infant if he had no energy. So much for cooking, too. He became even more exhausted just looking at the refrigerator. Why wasn’t anything working on this energy drain? This was just frustrating

“Here,” said Lailah, coming in from the bookshop where she was consulting with Aziraphale on the entire issue. “Let me take her. You go relax on the couch or something.”

“I’m sick of this,” he said as he headed to the white leather couch to lie down. “I want my life back.”

With an irritated snap, he turned on a film on Netflix, glaring at the television like he hated his selection. This was ridiculous as well as frustrating. He couldn’t do a damn thing anymore without needing six hours of sleep afterwards. Seething, he thought of all his was missing and how much more would he miss until this was solved. What if it never was? Was if it was a fight between his own screwed-up body and whatever spells Aziraphale could find to keep it at bay for a few days at a time? He had barely left this flat since Rowan was born. The couple of times he did, he slept the rest of the day upon returning. What kind of life was this?

He awoke to hands stroking his hair, Aziraphale’s concerned face before him as the angel crouched in front of the couch. Crowley opened his eyes, took Aziraphale’s hand in his and brought it to his mouth to place a kiss on the heel of his palm. He blinked slowly at his husband.

“Hey, angel,” he said.

“I’d ask you how you’re doing, my dear, but I see it’s not good,” Aziraphale smiled softly back at him. “Sit up. I can tell you’re all irritated. I’d rather you were relaxed when I try fixing things again. It just might take better.”

He sat beside Crowley, having the demon turn with his back to him so he could reach his hair better. With the hairbrush he brought with him, he worked through Crowley’s shoulder-length hair, getting every tangle he could find out, feeling the demon relax just that much more with every stroke. Brushing every red strand silky smooth, he gathered it all up into a ponytail and wrapped a tie around it, keeping it out of Crowley’s face.

“There. How’s that feel?”

“Good.” Crowley turned partially to set his head against Aziraphale’s shoulder, covering the side of his neck in kisses. “Love you, angel.”

“I love you, too.” Aziraphale placed a kiss on top of Crowley’s head.

Crowley turned completely around, taking Aziraphale’s face in his hands, kissing him long and deep. He felt a groan come from the angel’s throat as he explored his mouth with his preternaturally prehensile tongue. His spouse’s hands gripped at his sides, causing his own breath to catch as fingernails scraped along the fabric of his shirt. His own fingers found purchase in the soft golden curls on Aziraphale’s head. But after a few minutes, the angel pulled back with regret.

“We can snog in a bit. Let’s get you fixed up first,” he said, giving Crowley’s cheek one last caress.

“I hate having to do this. Why can’t everything just be normal?”

“When have our lives ever been normal?”

“True.” Crowley hit the remote button to shut down the television. “Not like I was watching that anyway. You’re a lot more fun.” He grinned in anticipation of more snogging. 

Aziraphale closed his eyes, letting the spell’s energy flow into Crowley, using its power to loop the energy leeching off of him back around so it would be picked up again. It looked to be successful. For a moment. Then all hell broke loose.

Sensing more energy coming into Crowley, the drain increased, picking up to the point that a torrent of it was draining off of him while only a trickle was returning. Panicking, Aziraphale attempted to make corrections. He could feel Crowley starting to collapse beneath his hands. The demon’s arms, which had been laying gently on Aziraphale’s sides suddenly cling to him before losing purchase and sliding off entirely. He felt his head sag beneath his hands.

“No, Crowley! Hang on. Just hang on. I’ll correct it. Let me work. Give me time to work. Crowley!”

Aziraphale caught his husband’s body before he pitched backwards off the couch. Carefully laying him down on the couch, he brushed a hand across his forehead, stroking his hair as he swallowed down his panic. His hands would not quit shaking, though.

A quick check showed no energy was flowing in or out of Crowley. Sobbing in despair, Aziraphale laid his head on the demon’s chest, not feeling him breathe or hearing a heartbeat. “No . . . no . . . I’m sorry, Crowley. I didn’t know . . . that wasn’t supposed to happen . . . come back to me.” He looked up towards the Heavens, pleading with the One who had the power to bring his beloved husband back. “Please, send him back to me soon.” He curled up miserably beside Crowley’s body, crying until he had soaked Crowley’s chest, and grief and exhaustion caused him to finally pass out. 


	7. Loss

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aziraphale is not coping well, poor baby. Lailah seeks help from those Upstairs.

Lailah returned to hear the angry cries of a hungry infant in the eerily dark flat. She had had to take a few hours to check up on a particularly difficult pregnancy in the area. The soul in question would make some big medical discoveries for humanity in the future so she was giving that unborn child as much of a fighting chance as she could. 

“Aziraphale? Crowley? What’s going on, guys?” 

Hurrying down the hall to the nursery, she miracled up a warm bottle and fed Rowan laying her back in her crib with the mobile going to entertain her while she went to see what was wrong. Now that she was attuned more to the situation at hand, she could feel Aziraphale’s grief, weak as it fluttered against her consciousness. She ran to the lounge, dread filling her.

“Aziraphale? Crowley? Oh my God!”

She found them. Crowley lay deathly pale on the couch; Aziraphale curled up beside him. Quickly she put a hand on the demon first and sighed in relief. He hadn’t discorporated, but he was in bad shape. His spirit was clinging desperately to a body that had been completely shut down to keep discorporation from occurring. It was the supernatural being’s version of a coma.

Aziraphale, on the other hand, was actively trying to discorporate. Kneeling beside the couch, Lailah dragged him to a sitting position, shaking him rather harshly in an attempt to bring him back to his senses.

“Aziraphale. No. You have to stay here. You have a daughter to care for,” she snapped at him.

He gazed up out of blue eyes gone dark with grief. They looked right through her, making her swear she had never seen a more broken angel in her existence. Sucking in a breath, she slapped him hard, leaving a rather angry red splotch on his cheek. He blinked at her.

“Think of Rowan! I came in and she was lying in her crib crying, Aziraphale,” she said harshly to him. “You can’t just curl up and discorporate. You have responsibilities here. You are a parent.”

“Rowan?” he said slowly, his face still showing his trauma.

“Yes. Your baby. Remember?”

“Crowley’s gone.” Tears welling up again, he turned to caress the demon’s cheek. “He’s so damaged I don’t know how long until he can be sent back. I need to be with him.”

“Aziraphale, he’s still with us. He’s just in a coma. His spirit’s still in there even though his body is not functioning. It’s not good, but he’s hanging on.” Lailah pulled him into a hug. “We’re still in the game here, but it’s time to call on Heaven. It’s dire enough. Get yourself together so we can go, ok?”

She got him up off the couch and away from Crowley. Being near the unconscious demon was not helping matters right now. Leading him to the master bedroom, she instructed him to get into some clean clothes and compose himself so they could take Crowley to get help.

She herself prepared Rowan for the trip, locating the baby carrier and slipping it on so she could easily to tote the newborn around. She located a diaper bag, or whatever they were called here in England, and loaded it with bottles, a blanket, diapers, a pacifier or two. Exiting the nursery burdened with a baby in a carrier on her chest and a bag slung on her shoulder, she checked in on Aziraphale. 

“Are you ready?” she asked the figure sitting on the bed in a state of shock. “C’mon, Aziraphale. We’ve got to figure out a way to get him up there.”

~*~*~

How they got past all of Heaven’s security, Raphael did not know, but the two of them stood before him, Lailah looking furious despite the baby comically strapped to her chest and Aziraphale standing there sorrowfully holding something covered in a white sheet. He glared at both of them in turn, his arms crossed against his chest.

Pointing at Lailah, he said, “I told _you_ not to bother me with this.” Turning to Aziraphale, he said, “ _You’re_ not even supposed to be up here anymore and that baby was not welcome the moment it couldn’t replace the Antichrist.”

“She,” corrected Aziraphale quietly.

“Is that important?” snapped Raphael.

“She’s presenting female. Show some common courtesy. It is not like people run around referring to you as ‘it’ despite your lack of gender,” Aziraphale replied coldly.

“Get out.”

“No. We have a patient for you,” said Lailah. “You can’t refuse when presented one, right? That’s your oath.”

Groaning, Raphael stood up and approached them. Flipping back the white sheet on Aziraphale’s bundle he gazed upon a slightly-larger-than-normal black and red snake lying extremely still in the Principality’s arms. His steel grey eyes met Aziraphale’s sky blue ones. 

“I’m not a vet.”

“Are you refusing your oath?” asked Lailah.

“You need to watch it,” he snapped in reply. “I still am the head of your department or do you really want to start testing the hierarchy around here?”

He started to leave the office, not wanting to be part of this anymore. He didn’t have to stand for this shit. He had work to do in the Healing Centre with patients who deserved his help. A hand caught his shoulder as he tried to exit the room. 

"Help him," Aziraphale begged Raphael. "It's Heaven and Hell's fault he's now so deathly ill. It's your responsibility to fix it!"

“I have no responsibility to a demon!”

“Not even one under God’s protection?” Aziraphale shot back.

“If She wants to heal him, She’s more than welcome to,” the Archangel snarled. “He’s not my problem. But good luck getting him through Heaven to Her doorstep. You’ll be thrown out before you get there.”

“Why are you being such a dick?” Lailah asked.

Aziraphale blushed at her language despite himself.

“You tried my patience, Lailah. I was willing to help out how I could but you had to push. So, go try to talk to the Almighty. Aziraphale’s exiled. He’s going to get shown the door before you get two steps out of this building.”

Lailah was awkwardly digging in her pocket, the baby carrier making it difficult to reach it in a more graceful fashion. “Ah, there it is.” She pulled out what resembled a golden medallion. “I’m not too worried about making it there. I do have Her number.”

She flashed the medallion at Raphael as his jaw dropped in shock. Aziraphale raised an eyebrow despite himself. Only the Metatron was known to have a medallion like that. It was a direct link to the Almighty. The Archangel recovered enough to glare at her.

“Just put that away and transport to the trauma room. You know where that is,” said the healer. “I don’t know if I can do much more than stabilize him.”

“Why the sudden change of heart?” asked Aziraphale.

“You haven’t heard, have you, being exiled and all,” Raphael replied. “She’s demoted the Metatron and Gabriel temporarily for displeasing Her. A thousand years of grunt work. I’m not going to be next. Let’s go.”

He disappeared. Lailah took Aziraphale’s hand and they followed after him, popping into a room that looked rather similar to a medical facility on Earth – a sterile environment with a bed for the patient and cabinets against one wall along with a sink. The only thing missing were the various equipment human medical professionals used.

Aziraphale laid Crowley’s prone snake form in the bed, touching him briefly to turn him back to his favourite shape. Trying to keep the tears out of his eyes, he stroked his red hair briefly before stepping back. 

“Take him into the next room. We have no patients in this wing, so nobody should be around. Close the door and keep your voices down.”

“I want to stay,” said Aziraphale quietly.

“Lailah, get him out of here.”

“C’mon, Aziraphale. He needs to work.” She led him to the next room where there was a bed and a couple of chairs. 

Conjuring up a bassinet, she placed Rowan in it and slipped the carrier’s straps off her shoulders. Aziraphale sat beside it, a hand placed on his daughter’s head as he tried to hold it together before coming completely apart again. Tears fell into the bassinet, barely missing the baby slumbering there. Lailah approached, hugging him awkwardly from the side the best she could.

“It’s ok,” she said. “It’ll be ok now. I’m sorry. I should have fought harder for him.”

“You did what you could, Lailah, and I appreciate all of it.” He turned towards her to reciprocate the hug. “I know we’ll get him back. It’s just a matter of when and that’s tearing me apart right now.”

Lailah didn’t know what to say so she just took Aziraphale’s hand and sat there with him as time slowly passed. Eventually Rowan needed to be fed, the Principality holding her for a long time afterward as she was awake and alert. He smiled sadly down at her.

“She has his eyes, you know, the exact same shape. And I swear she is going to have his cheekbones when all that baby fat eventually goes away. I guess since she really doesn’t display much of her personality yet we’ll have to wait and see if she inherited his temper.”

They waited, agonizing minute after agonizing minute, Aziraphale occasionally needing comfort and thankfully, Rowan just sleeping. Eventually the door opened and a rather tired looking Raphael walked in. He raked a hand through hair that already looked like it had been combed through in frustration several times already.

“I got him breathing, but I don’t know what to do,” he said. “His energy output is still outstripping his input. I have a pool set up for him to draw energy from, but that’s all I can do right now. Give me a couple of days to work on it, but you’re right. You might go need to talk to a higher authority. He might just need to discorporate and start fresh with a new body.”

“Thank you for trying,” said Aziraphale. “May I see him?”

“Go ahead. Don’t get caught,” replied Raphael. “And Lailah?”

“Yeah?”

“Thanks so much for compromising my position in the Host. Really do appreciate it,” he replied sarcastically before following Aziraphale out.

She watched him leave with shock then collapsing back into her chair, Lailah started sobbing.

Next door Aziraphale wasn’t doing much better while he sat holding Crowley’s hand. At least he was warm and his colour was back. But while it was improvement, it wasn’t much of an improvement. Laying his head down on Crowley’s chest, Aziraphale listened to his heartbeat. Never was an unneeded function so welcome yet so frustrating. The demon was still unresponsive.

“I need you to return to me,” he whispered. Crowley’s hand twitched under his making Aziraphale’s hope rise slightly. “That’s right, my dear. I need you. Rowan needs you. Please, fight your way back for us.”

“I have work to do on him,” said Raphael behind him brusquely. “Go home and rest or something. You have that kid to take care of anyway. Sitting here in my way moping will not be useful.”

“Can I come back tomorrow?”

“Yes. Fine. For a little while. We’ll say after two o’clock your time,” the healer said impatiently. “It’s not a well-known thing, but you can transport in and out of healing rooms unlike the rest of Heaven. It’s to quickly get critically injured angels back up here. That way you don’t have to sneak past the guards again. Now go. It’s not like he can hear you, anyway. He’s unconscious.”

Aziraphale found himself ushered out, the door slamming closed behind him. He stood senselessly in the hallway before finally walking numbly to the room next door where Lailah had pulled herself together for his sake and was waiting with the baby already strapped to her chest in the carrier. She quietly grabbed his hand and took him home. 

It didn’t seem like home without Crowley here. Thinking about it, Aziraphale realized they really hadn’t spent any significant time apart since Hastur had stalked Crowley. The longest stretches were while he was running the bookshop, but Crowley had almost always been upstairs in the flat. If he had run errands, it had been for an hour or two. The thought made him collapse onto the plush white carpet with grief only to be caught in someone’s arms.

“Hey, you can’t shut down like this, Aziraphale.” Lailah was picking him up off the floor and guiding him to the couch. “It’s okay to be upset. I am, too, but Rowan needs you. Crowley will be fine. It might take him a while to get there, but God is not going to let anything happen to a being She’s protecting.”

She knelt before him, looking him in the eye, hoping he was hearing and understanding what she was saying to him. 

“We haven’t spent a night apart in quite a while now.” Aziraphale paused. “I let him down.”

“What do you mean?” Lailah had retreated from the couch to put Rowan in her portable cot.

“We have protected each other all these years. He came to my rescue many a time and I to his. Only this time it blew up in my face. I was supposed to make things right and the spells didn’t work the way they were supposed to.”

“We’re dealing with the unknown here, Aziraphale. We tried our best and maybe I should have just gone to the top when things didn’t work the first time. But guilt and second-guessing aren’t going to help Crowley,” Lailah replied. “We need to let Raph work. If he can’t fix it, God can. Here, let me get you some tea. It’ll help calm you down.”

“I don’t want tea!” burst out Aziraphale in a rare display of temper. “I want Crowley back!” 

He stormed off to bedroom, slamming the door behind him. Lailah heard a lock click into place, probably miracled there to ensure his privacy. With a weary sigh she settled down in the lounge for the night. There would be no talking to him as long as he was in this state of mind. All she could do was care for Rowan and be there when he was ready to talk. At least she had the television to add noise to the flat. It was eerily quiet without the friendly banter of Crowley and Aziraphale.

Aziraphale stood in the bedroom listlessly before taking off his shoes, coat, bowtie and waistcoat. He unbuttoned his shirt about halfway down. Usually he took of his coat in the lounge where a coat stand stood by the door. There was no good place to put it in here. Finally, his gaze settled on small yet comfortable chair that set over by the window where he sometimes read at night if Crowley was being too restless in his sleep. Crowley’s favourite black coat with the red lining on the collar hung on the back of it. 

He stared at it a moment, dropping his own coat unceremoniously on the chair’s cushion before picking up Crowley’s. Tears forming again in his eyes, he smelled it, enveloping himself in the scent of Crowley’s cologne. Heading to the bed, he lay curled up around it on the demon’s side, head on his pillow, coat near his face where he could smell it. Slightly comforted, he managed to fall into an uneasy sleep.

Morning was not any easier. He did not want to leave the bed, leave the small reminders of Crowley he had there. He rolled over on his own pillow to cry, not wanting to leave tears on his husband’s for fear they would destroy his scent. He fingered the coat, wondering how many hugs, how many loving touches he had given Crowley while he wore it. Too many to count. Now all he had to touch was this until they could heal him. 

And it was his fault his demon almost discorporated. 

He sank further into his depression. Drifting back into sleep, he didn’t dream. 

He awoke to someone shaking him away, but turned over mumbling, “Please leave or next time I’ll ward the door instead.”

“No. Like I said, you can’t shut down, Aziraphale. There’s a big difference between being upset about this, which you have every right to be, and giving up. You can’t curl up in a ball and stop responding to world until Crowley’s back. You have someone here who’s depending on you. Now, get up.”

“I can’t.”

“You have to. How would Crowley feel about you neglecting your daughter?”

Something was placed next to him. Something soft, tiny and warm. Something that smelled of innocence and helplessness. Something that made quiet cooing noises, awakening in him some need to protect her from world at large. He drew Rowan in close, hugging her carefully.

The tears flowed again. 

“Just hold her. She’s been fed and changed so all you have to do is be with her. She needs you, too.”

Lailah left the room hoping the baby would be enough to snap Aziraphale out of it. Going to the kitchen she used a few miracles to make some pancakes for him in case he was hungry. It was about all she could make since it only required adding a few things to a mix then cooking. A little use of her powers ensured everything was measured, mixed and cooked properly. They could yell at her Upstairs for the judicious use of frivolous miracles for all she cared. She was not leaving Aziraphale alone to go get something.

Leaving the perfectly made pancakes on the back of the cooker, she took up her sketches again to pass the time. Aziraphale would either come out eventually or she’d entice him out to go see Crowley.

~*~*~

Raphael stopped short as he walked into Crowley’s room. Sitting in a chair beside his bed was a woman dressed in white robes with a sheer white veil over Her grey hair. The wings on Her back were the brightest of whites with a sheen of pearl about them. She was brushing a few strands of hair off of Crowley’s face.

“Why wasn’t I informed?”

“Lord, my first thoughts were to stabilize him,” replied Raphael. “And then see if I could fix things myself, but I’m failing at that. Miserably.”

“Maybe reverse engineering the spell will help. I had to recreate it out of the Metatron’s memories because he had destroyed it.” She handed him a scroll. “I am reluctant to use My own powers on Crowley when he is this weak. It might be disastrous. It is better you try your hand first even if you just stabilize him so he can get stronger. I can take over once he’s able to handle Divine powers.”

“Lord, may I ask why Crowley and Aziraphale are so important?” Raphael inquired. “A Principality and a demon?”

“Yes, but I doubt you’d understand yet. You may have been neutral in Gabriel and Beelzebub’s plans but you still view Aziraphale and Crowley as pawns to be used. You don’t think too highly of what they are – a mere Principality and one of your hereditary enemies. You agreed with Aziraphale’s exile from Heaven,” replied God. “How you possibly comprehend why I created them and how important it was that they save Earth? Maybe one day when you do start to think for yourself instead of worrying about following the Host you’ll understand they didn’t just save Earth from destruction, but Heaven and Hell as well. The one Realm remaining after the War would not last long before it collapsed upon itself. You owe them everything, but continue to treat them like nothing.”

Raphael looked down, feeling shame at the rebuke from the One who created him. He could only nod in response.

“I’ve created an energy pool for Crowley that will keep refilling as needed but I cannot risk being the one to connect it to him. At least then you won’t have to keep recreating them every few hours,” She said. “It’s time to move him to My domain for his own safety and so Aziraphale can stay with him. He won’t heal if they’re separated. You’ll be able to check up on him whenever needed.”

~*~*~

Lailah about jumped out of her skin when Raphael appeared in the kitchen. Her pencil skittered across the paper, leaving a rather large dark grey line across the drawing she was working on.

“For Heaven’s sake, Raphael,” she snapped. “You can’t just _do_ that. Good thing this sketch was only practice.”

He brushed his dark hair out of his face. “Where’s Aziraphale?”

“In the bedroom with the baby. What do you want with him? He’s in a rather fragile state right now.”

“Get him. We’ll need to go here soon.”

“What is going on?” Lailah demanded, putting her art things away in her bag.

“Crowley’s been moved to quarters in God’s section of Heaven. She wants him safe and wants Aziraphale to be able to be with him at all times. So, c’mon. Tell him he needs to get himself and the kid ready to go.”

Lailah rolled her eyes at his rude behaviour but went to fetch Aziraphale anyway. It was encouraging that the Almighty was taking an interest in this. She knocked on the door.

“Aziraphale? Can I come in?”

“Yes.” The response sounded tired, like he had given up hope.

She entered to find him sitting in the chair by the window cradling Rowan, looking haggard. “The Almighty has Crowley in her section. There are quarters set up there so you can stay with him. Raphael’s here to take us up there.”

He handed off Rowan to her so he could put on his bowtie, waistcoat and coat. With a sigh he turned to her. “Let’s go.”

Meeting up with Raphael in the lounge, Aziraphale merely nodded to him before they transported up into God’s private section of Heaven. She was waiting there for them, hands clasped before Her, a welcoming look on her face.

“Aziraphale, I’m so sorry. You can stay here as long as you need to. We will get Crowley healed and he will heal better with you present.”

“Thank you, Lord.”

“Raphael? Will you show Aziraphale to his quarters?”

“Yes, Lord. This way.” He gestured to the Principality. 

They walked a ways up a path to a small cottage. Upon opening the door, Aziraphale found the inside was set up and decorated like their flat, with the addition of a healing room where Crowley was. In there was a comfortable chair, a bassinet, bookshelves full of books and other baby necessities like a swing.

“Are you going to be ok for a while?” Lailah asked him, putting a hand on his shoulder. “I thought I’d check in at the office for a couple of hours. I’ll come back later.”

“We’ll be fine. I’ll just get Rowan settled in here.” He smiled wanly at her. “You go catch up on all that paperwork, my dear girl.”

He was alone now except for the unconscious Crowley in the bed and Rowan who he had just laid in the bassinet. Raphael had taken off as soon as he pointed out the cottage to them. 

He went to Crowley, looking him over for the first time since he left yesterday. He lay in the bed like he was sleeping, dressed in a white tunic. Aziraphale touched it, changing it to black.

“I know, my dear. White just won’t do for you. I’m here now and I’m not leaving until I can leave with you.” He reached up to grasp Crowley’s hand, wishing the demon was conscious enough to squeeze his back, but his remained limp in the angel’s. “Rowan is here, too. Just so you know. I don’t want you to worry when you hear crying. It’s just her needing something.”

He noticed there was enough space in the bed to accommodate him. He stripped down to his shirt and trousers, leaving everything else neatly placed on the back of the chair with his shoes beside it. Climbing in beside Crowley, he embraced his unresponsive husband the best he could. 

“I love you,” he said before settling in, a few tears wetting Crowley’s shoulder. 

There he stayed until Rowan needed a nappy change.

Meanwhile, Lailah headed back to her office, ignoring the negative looks she received from other angels the entire journey back to the building that housed the Head Offices. Slipping in, she made her way to her second-floor office where she found a pile of folders waiting for her. With a sigh, she closed her door, sat down at her desk and started reading through them.

Most were dull reports on how ensouling was going, or announcements of pregnancies beginning or ending. A few were about the pregnancies she was keeping a close watch on. Those she read with more interest, making a few notes about some on her laptop. She had been there about an hour when she opened a folder to have a note fall out. Picking it up, she read it with shaking hands.

_“Hello traitor,_

_Imagine my disgust at being asked to deliver this report to your office. I could barely stand walking in knowing such filth worked in here. I hear you’re down on Earth helping out those two abominations with that brat they shouldn’t be raising. The kid was meant to be ours to start the War demanded by the Great Plan. I’d like to know how the pathetic Aziraphale and the unclean beast Crawly got God on their side. You’re close to them. Care to tell us? On second thought, just stay on Earth where you belong. We don’t want you. If the Host had their way, you’d have burned in hellfire by now along with that freak Aziraphale.”_

Holding back tears, she threw it in the wastepaper basket and fled the building as quickly as she could without attracting too much attention. She swore, though, she vaguely noticed a couple of angels snickering to each other as she passed them, but her eyes were too blinded with wetness to be able to see properly. 

Once outside, she threw on the coat she was carrying even though it was unneeded in Heaven. For some reason, she felt she should have her arms free just in case something happened. She had already been attacked once and now threatening notes were showing up. Walking quickly, she headed home. Her home, not the quarters set up for Crowley and Aziraphale in God’s sector.

She reached the building where she had an apartment on the street level, half expecting to find the windows on her patio broken. Everything was fine. Entering with caution, she checked every single room before finally relaxing. But she still warded every single possible entrance before she settled down for the night.

She spent the night curled up in a frightened ball on her couch wondering if someone was going to realize she had returned and do something awful to her or her property.


	8. Coma

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _A male and female voice spoke around him. The male one was not familiar but the female one was. It was calming and he tried to remember where he heard it before. Flashes of Rowan’s birth came to mind. It was She who called him by his original name and soothed him as the forces of Heaven and Hell closed in to take Rowan away from him and Aziraphale. He suddenly felt at peace. Everything was going to be ok. The darkness claimed him again, but he didn’t fear it this time._
> 
> I’m going to be fine . . .
> 
> Laliah briefly checks on the rebels in Hell. Crowley, in a state of semi-consciousness, tries to make sense of what's going on. Other angels in Heaven who might not have the best intentions, try to discover what's going on. (Ligur's appearance in this chapter is brief, but I plan a larger role for him later.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm behind on this story because . . . life. You know how that can happen. So it hasn't been beta'ed and I've only been able to proofread this chapter once. Please excuse the mistakes I missed. And let me know if you find any. I'll fix them. Thanks!
> 
> I loosely based Crowley's coma experiences on first hand accounts I found online of what it's like to be in a coma and starting to come out of it. Things differ from person to person and whether they were in a natural coma or a medically induced one. It's actually kind of interesting to me, but what I find interesting would bore most people so I'll leave you to satisfy your own curiosity if you have it. :)

Lailah made an unusual phone call before leaving her apartment the next morning, using the same “nonexistent” back channels Michael had over two years ago to sniff out Aziraphale’s noncompliance with Heaven’s views. 

“Ligur speaking.”

“It’s Lailah.”

“What do you want?” he demanded. “I really can’t be talking to angels.”

“Just wondering how the rebels are faring in Hell now that everything’s settled down, that’s all.”

“Fine. We’re all fine. Beelzebub’s scared enough of the Almighty’s retribution they're pretending none of it happened. I don’t know why you care.”

Lailah thought a moment, then replied. “Because you all stuck your neck out for us. Talk to you later or whatever.”

She hung up. At least Hell had its shit sorted even if Heaven didn’t. 

As soon as the rush of angels heading to their jobs was over, she ventured out to get back to Aziraphale in case he needed anything. Unfurling her wings, she flew to God’s front door to get there faster with less chance of encounters or confrontations. Once at the gates, she touched the center of them causing them to recognize her and open. She was safe.

The cottage created for the Principality and his sick demon was not far away, settled among a copse of trees that nearly hid it from view. Walking up the path, she knocked before entering.

“Aziraphale? You in?”

He appeared from down the hall, still looking worn-down but worlds better than yesterday when Raphael had kicked him out. Lailah ran to him, carefully embracing him when she reached him. He gently returned the hug.

“How is he?”

“He’s gained some strength back but it’s slow going,” Aziraphale replied. “God said she’d work on him as soon as he’s strong enough to endure Her power. He did move a finger today when I was talking to him. I think he knows I’m here.”

“Maybe he does,” replied Lailah. “Mind if I see him?”

“Not at all, my dear girl,” replied Aziraphale. “Is everything ok? You stayed out all night.”

“Fine,” she replied airily as she headed to the healing room. “Everything’s ok. I just had more reports to go through than I thought. You know how they can pile up.”

He didn’t believe her for one second, but let it drop for now, choosing to continue to the kitchen to make himself some tea. They could talk later when Crowley was well on his way to being healed and the stress wasn’t as intense. 

Lailah steeled herself as she stepped in the room. Even though she had known him only a matter of months, it hurt to see Crowley like this. She had become close to him, tried to protect him from Heaven and Hell, delivered his child. He would get better but nobody was sure how long or hard that road would be. Sometimes it wasn’t the outcome that mattered, it was the journey and this one looked to be rough.

“Hey Crowley.” She stood by the bed, taking his limp hand in hers and kissing his forehead. “I just wanted to let you know I’m here, too. I won’t leave Aziraphale alone, ok? Oh, honey, you look like hell. Please get better soon. I miss you. I even miss all the snarky remarks about how American I act. You’re just going to have to wake up and teach me proper English.”

She talked on, mostly making small talk and avoiding her own problems, but eventually coming around to discuss how her portrait of Aziraphale was going. Just briefly golden serpentine eyes opened and seemed to focus on her before closing again.

“Crowley? Are you there, Crowley?” She patted his hand gently. “I saw your eyes open there. Can you open them again?”

“He’s probably in a minimally conscious state right now if he’s opening his eyes sometimes.” Raphael stood in the doorway. “He just needs to rest and gain strength. I’m going to check him, so if you’d exit for a moment.”

Lailah left for a few minutes before Raphael called her back in. Aziraphale joined her this time, a cup of tea in his hands. 

The Archangel turned to Lailah. “How long did he have his eyes open?”

“Just a second,” she replied, hearing Aziraphale’s sharp intake of breath beside her.

“He opened his eyes?” he asked.

Raphael held up a hand to silence him. “Did he track?”

“What?”

“Did he focus on anything?” said Raphael impatiently.

“Yes, he looked at me then closed them,” she replied.

“Is that good?” asked Aziraphale, the cup in his hands starting to shake. He put it down on a nearby counter before he spilled tea on himself.

“It means he’s coming out of it. How long it will take him to fully wake up is anyone’s guess, though,” replied Raphael with a shrug. “I’ll check on him tomorrow. If anything happens, positive or negative, send me word.”

He gave them both a cursory smile before walking out.

Lailah hugged a hopeful looking Aziraphale. “Don’t give up, sweetie. You’ll get him back.” 

She went over to the bed again, leaning down to kiss Crowley on the forehead. “I’ll talk to you later, ok? Aziraphale’s here.”

She felt Aziraphale grab her arm. “Stay? Please. It would mean a lot to me. To us.” He smiled. “You’ve done so much for us and we haven’t been able to do much to thank you. You’re family, too. Don’t ever think you’re not welcome to sit in here with him.”

Holding back the misty-eyed feeling that came over her, she sat down with Aziraphale and listened while he read to Crowley. She was sure she occasionally saw Crowley’s hand twitch in response to Aziraphale’s voice.

~*~*~

He felt Aziraphale’s hands on the sides of his head as he performed the spell, his sky blue eyes showing panic as things went wrong. Crowley started to feel woozy, his breath coming rapidly as he panicked along with his husband. He felt as if he was falling, his fingers clinging to Aziraphale’s shirt before his hands just went numb, losing their grip entirely to fall limply as his sides. 

“No, Crowley! Hang on. Just hang on. I’ll correct it. Let me work. Give me time to work. Crowley!”

He felt as if his legs wouldn’t hold him if he was to stand up, then his neck gave out, suddenly unable to hold his head up the way it was supposed to. Aziraphale’s hands were the only things keeping it upright now. Finally his eyelids no longer wanted to stay open and while he fought against it, they started to close on him. Then he could not battle the encroaching darkness any longer that slowly replaced his angel’s concerned face.

He found himself locked in his own body in complete darkness with only his thoughts. Experiencing total sensory deprivation, he could not access any of them. It was like he was back to being just a spirit but one thrown in a room where there was absolutely no stimuli. He could not handle that, being alone in a completely dark place where he could not hear or feel. It would drive him mad if he stayed like this.

Slowly he drifted off into some kind of dreamless sleep. 

Something happened. He felt the shift even though he was no longer really in touch with his body and knew he was no longer in human form. Vaguely he wondered why that happened before “curling” back up and falling asleep again. He remembered nothing more.

Crowley came to again slowly knowing he was no longer in snake form, voices pulling him up into some kind of limited consciousness. They were soft at first, then became louder as he became more aware, although he could not move or even open his eyes. He thought he heard Aziraphale arguing, pleading with someone. A door slammed and he could feel in his mind someone checking his state of health. Healing magic followed and suddenly he felt his lungs take in air as his heart started beating again. That seemed to be all that could be done for now, but he could somewhat feel this time around. He at least was aware of the hands on him. He could sense powers being used on him. Then he drifted off.

Aziraphale. His angel was speaking to him. Crowley’s heart ached, wanting to be able to communicate with him in some way to let him know he was still here. He could feel Aziraphale’s hand on his. 

_Concentrate. You can do it. You can move your hand and show Aziraphale you’re still in here._

It twitched just slightly and Aziraphale’s tightened briefly. It was a small victory, but it was enough. His angel knew he was still in here, even if his current state severely limited his communication. A male voice shooed Aziraphale out and Crowley saw no reason to stay conscious.

Some timeless later, more magic came at him. He could no longer feel the fabric of his shirt or the slight tightness of his jeans. Instead those sensations were replaced by soft cotton that covered him about from neck to mid-thigh. He imagined a gown like humans wore when they were sick in hospitals. But Aziraphale wouldn’t take him to a hospital nor would a human doctor use healing powers. 

Where was he? He didn’t have much of a chance to ponder it before he returned to complete unconsciousness. 

He was moved; he could feel it as he was jarred into semi-consciousness. A male and female voice spoke around him. The male one was not familiar but the female one was. It was calming and he tried to remember where he heard it before. Flashes of Rowan’s birth came to mind. It was She who called him by his original name and soothed him as the forces of Heaven and Hell closed in to take Rowan away from him and Aziraphale. He suddenly felt at peace. Everything was going to be ok. The darkness claimed him again, but he didn’t fear it this time.

_I’m going to be fine . . ._

There was a cry. He awoke long enough to identify it as the one Rowan made when she needed her nappy changed. 

_I’ll see you soon. I promise, Rowan . . ._

He heard Lailah, felt her kiss his forehead as she held his hand. She talked but he wasn’t sure about what. It didn’t matter; he was just glad that they weren’t silent. Their voices were soothing even if he wasn’t aware enough to understand every word.

“. . . my sketch of Aziraphale is . . .”

_Aziraphale. Angel._

Was he here? Crowley didn’t hear him and wanted to know. He forced his eyes open for just a moment, looking towards the voice and focusing for a split second on Lailah. 

_Lailah, where’s Aziraphale?_

He couldn’t hold them open any longer even though he wanted to keep looking at her. He wanted so badly to get his voice working, to get his lips to form words and tell her he was here and listening. To ask where his husband was. He was fond of Lailah and glad she was here, but the ache he felt for the love of his life overpowered all else. 

He lost his fight and returned to unconsciousness before he eventually surfaced enough to hear voices again.

_Aziraphale!_

He was reading to him. Crowley only spent seconds to minutes aware right now before falling back down that rabbit hole, but it was comforting to hear his angel’s voice if only for a short time even though oftentimes he did not comprehend what Aziraphale was saying. He was safe. He was loved. He would get out of this.

~*~*~

Aziraphale would not be anything but positive in Crowley’s room. If he felt any negative emotions coming on, he’d immediately leave the room. Lailah made sure she was in there as much as possible when he did so she could tell Crowley he’d be right back. She didn’t know if Crowley was that aware of what was going on, but it didn’t hurt.

But Aziraphale had just exited today and not returned for a hour which was unusual. Lailah continued reading to Crowley but as time ticked away, she became concerned. She excused herself and went to locate him.

“Aziraphale?” she asked when she found him in the lounge on the couch, his eyes red from crying. “What’s wrong?”

“I miss him. I know . . . it’s him there in that bed, but it’s not. That’s just his body. Everything I love about him is locked away somewhere in that coma. I know Raphael said he’s starting to wake up, but it feels like such a tease,” he wiped away a tear. “I’ve gotten him to squeeze my hand a couple of times, but that’s it. I haven’t seen him open his eyes and there are no reactions beyond those two actions.”

Lailah didn’t respond, choosing instead to sit with him rubbing his back to try to soothe away the tears. The recovery was not going to be easy on any of them. 

He eventually went back to Crowley, deciding that his hair would be better off in a plait instead of free to tangle all over the pillow. Lailah found him with the hairbrush getting all the tangles out of the red locks before he turned to her.

“Can you help me hold him up so I can get his hair braided? It’ll be better than it constantly being in his face.”

So together they got Crowley’s hair braided in a loose French braid that wouldn’t pull at his temples or be too bulky for him to lay on. Lailah suspected doing Crowley’s hair calmed Aziraphale as much as it calmed Crowley. Carefully she lay the demon back down on the pillows after his husband tied off the end. 

“There,” he said as he swept back a few short hairs from Crowley’s temple. “That should feel better. Shall I read a little more to you?”

“It is a good story. I like it and I’m sure he appreciates it, too,” said Lailah who took a seat beside Aziraphale near the bed.

So Aziraphale read and Lailah listened hoping Crowley could hear his husband’s voice as well. 

~*~*~

Raphael always expected something more grand when he reported to the Almighty to give his daily report on Crowley, but She had made herself a humble abode of a cottage with extensive gardens sitting on lakefront property. This time he found Her weeding the flowerbeds below the cottage’s front windows. Seeing God doing such a mundane task made him pause before he spoke.

“Lord,” he said finally. “There’s been no major changes, but Crowley is definitely coming out of the coma thanks to the work I was able to do once I studied the spell itself. It’s just slow to happen. The infinite energy pool you set up is working. Lailah has seen him open his eyes and sometimes he squeezes Aziraphale’s hand when requested. I have caught glimpses of consciousness myself but nothing substantial. He’s probably able to hear when he’s awake and of course sometimes make voluntary movement, but that appears to be it for now.”

“Some improvement is better than none.” She stood up and brushed the dirt off Her robe. “Slow is probably better after the trauma he suffered. Best not to shock his system again. But I believe once he’s fully awake, I’ll be able to take care of the root problem. Thank you again for your help, Raphael. I know you find doing this difficult.”

He nodded then left with a bow. Exiting the section, he hoped that this nightmare would soon be over with before information leaked somehow and destroyed his reputation. At least he could say he didn’t have a choice in the matter because God told him that he would be healing the demon. That might be his saving grace.

It would be so wonderful to see the backs of Aziraphale and his demon. They could go back to Earth and stay there never to bother another angel again. It seemed Heaven couldn’t escape them lately. He completely and ironically ignored that Heaven was one of the parties to drag them back into the fray in the first place.

God watched him through Her special mirror as he strode angrily back to the Healing Centre. Sighing, she touched it so it showed Her reflection rather than Raphael. It still was Her wish more angels would begin to understand free will, but after thousands of years, She wondered if any more actually would. It might very well be a concept She would have to chalk up as a failure.

~*~*~

Lailah was in the kitchen, figuring out how to cook by hand. Right now she was starting with rice because of the simple instructions on the box. She figured she could boil water and pour rice in with no problem. Everything else she was making with the meal would take Aziraphale’s help, but she was determined to work it out.

“You don’t have to cook, my dear girl. You don’t eat and I don’t need to.” 

“Aziraphale, oh . . . I didn’t hear you come in,” she replied. “Don’t worry about it. I’m here to help and it’s best you spend as much time with Crowley as possible.”

“Stop, Lailah. You don’t need to do all this. I do believe Crowley’s unconscious most of the time so me walking out of the room is not a big deal. If I need food, I’ll get it. You do enough for us.” He smiled at her. 

“Ok, but I did manage to make rice, if you want to cook something to go with it.” She smiled somewhat proudly as she pointed to the pot of it sitting on the stove. 

“Thank you, but I’d better not catch you cooking again. You do enough already.” He placed a kiss on her cheek. 

He made tea and went back to his bedside vigil. 

Lailah went to check on Rowan, finding her quietly awake in her cot staring at the mobile made up of puffy fabric stars above her. Picking her up, she talked to her for a moment before carrying her off to Crowley’s room. 

“I would like to try something,” she said to Aziraphale and carefully laid the baby beside her unconscious parent. “Rowan’s here, Crowley. I figured you missed spending time with her so I brought her in.”

Rowan nestled in between Crowley’s side and arm where Lailah laid her. The angel stayed nearby just in case Crowley made some movement that might injure her. She was not anything more than a low-level healer, but she knew coma patients could make involuntary movements suddenly. Best to be safe about this even if angel/demon comas were a bit different.

“Aziraphale, his hand is twitching again and I think he’s trying to open up his eyes.” 

The Principality was immediately at Crowley’s side, grabbing his hand. “C’mon, my dear. You can do it. You can wake up. Please, do wake up for me. It would be so great to see you again.”

“A . . . zira . . .phale . . .” his voice was quiet and sounded raspy despite it only being a few days since he was regularly using it.

“Crowley? Are you there?”

Yellow eyes stared blankly his direction for a minute before they slid back closed again. Aziraphale’s breath hitched with his feelings of both elation that improvements were happening and disappointment that Crowley’s brain kept warring with him like this. Keeping the tears at bay, he sat back down in the chair and tried to calm himself.

“Come back to me,” he whispered before getting up again. “I need to step out again. I won’t have my negative feelings affecting him.”

“I’ll stay here,” said Lailah. 

Tears in his eyes, Aziraphale fled the room again.

~*~*~

Raphael was filling out the chart on an angel brought in after being cursed by a demon. They would be whole again, but it would be a long road to recovery if they didn’t want to discorporate and start all over with a new body. The patient in question was still mulling that choice over. 

“You know where she is. You’re her boss,” Eleth said. “The gossip mills are going crazy discussing it. We know she’s back in Heaven. Where is she hiding?”

“She came in to do some paperwork and left,” Raphael replied. “I don’t keep track of the angels in my department beyond that. It’s not my job to track them through their personal lives.”

Eleth crossed his arms. “That’s BS and I know it. You head out of here every day at the same time and go over to the Almighty’s sector. Something’s going on and I bet Lailah’s involved.”

Raphael looked up from his scribbling. “What I’m doing for the Almighty is classified and you’d do best to keep your nose out of it. Two high-ranking angels have already been temporarily demoted for displeasing Her. You work in Requisitions anyway. What do you want with my underling?”

Eleth look sullen. “Nothing. Really. I was just wanting to find out what’s going on around here and she seems to be at the center of a lot of controversy lately.”

He slunk off back to his own office determined to find out what was up. Several coworkers were still around despite the work day being done. He nodded to them as he headed back to his office where a good friend of his waited. 

“Rumour has it that traitor Aziraphale snuck back up here for some reason. A guard saw him but was too far away to arrest him before he reached his destination. He was seen by Raphael, then the Almighty Herself showed up at the Healing Centre. Oh. And nobody was allowed in the trauma wing for a day or two. That’s all I know,” they said.

“Really? That’s interesting. Lailah’s involved somehow since she’s basically the nanny for the brat these days. The trauma wing might be nothing. Sometimes they shut it off when there’s a bad case being healed.”

“Yeah? But who was that bad case? A friend of mine in Healing said Lailah had a big argument with Raphael over him refusing to heal someone. Now who would that be? He takes his oath pretty seriously and it doesn’t have many loopholes.”

Eleth thought for a moment. “A demon would be a loophole and there’s one demon Raphael couldn’t refuse treating without upsetting the Almighty if someone were to tell Her. But it doesn’t matter what’s up with the demon. Or Aziraphale for that matter. They’re not our problem because they’re not up here causing trouble. Lailah is. How long until she starts problems again if she’s back to advocating for the demon? We can’t trust someone who started a rebellion. Thanks for the information. I’ll poke around further.”

“Right.” The other angel left.

“Oh, Lailah. What are you up to now?” Eleth asked as he looked out his window.


	9. Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Finishing up Book One. Crowley's ordeal is finally almost over, but Lailah's is just beginning.

It was like walking in a dark tunnel that gradually became lighter where he sometimes had to sit down and rest. He seemed to have periods of wakefulness and sleeping, although “awake” wasn’t quite the right term. He wasn’t in control of most of his body and while he could sometimes open his eyes for a few minutes or move a hand or arm that was it. He was quite proud of himself the one time he was able to squeeze Aziraphale’s hand when the angel asked him to. 

Aziraphale was working with him again. He could now feel the angel’s touch and understand what was being said to him. It was an improvement upon the muffled distant-sounding incomprehensible speech he had grown used to. 

“Crowley? Are you awake? Can you open your eyes, please? It would be lovely if you tried. If you can’t, it’s not a big thing. I just want you to try.”

He tried. Tried so hard and yet could only get them open a crack. He wondered if Aziraphale could see that they weren’t shut all the way. He could see a grainy, blurry light beige mass in front of him that he assumed was his angel. The background was a mass of white not giving him a clue as to where he was. Where did Aziraphale take him? Also who was the unfamiliar voice he occasionally heard? A healer of some sort he guessed and one who wasn’t too fond of him. 

He concentrated on squeezing Aziraphale’s hand instead, managing to make a kind of fluttering movement with his fingers. That silly little movement made him feel happy. At least he could _tell_ Aziraphale in limited ways he was here. Unknown to him, the corners of his mouth twitched upwards slightly.

“Crowley, is that a smile? Did I see a smile? Oh, my dear, this is great.” 

Suddenly he was embraced and kissed gently on the forehead. He sighed in contentment inside his restrictive little tunnel enjoying what touch he could get from his angel while he was imprisoned in his own mind. It was better than lying there in the dark not feeling a thing. With effort, he raised his arm just slightly, feeling it flop immediately back on the bed. His fingers briefly brushed against the soft shirt of his husband causing Aziraphale to gasp in surprise.

“Crowley, you wonderful demon, you. Do you know you just raised your arm? You haven’t been able to do that yet. I’m proud of you.”

He was covered in more kisses and murmured praise he very much wished he could return. He missed really being with Aziraphale so much. And time with Rowan. And Lailah if he admitted it to himself. Determined, he decided he was going push himself as much as his brain would tolerate because he was not going to lay in this bed the rest of his existence. But now was not that time. He felt himself start to drift off again and was powerless to try to stop it.

“I think he’s drifted off again,” Aziraphale said about five minutes later when Lailah reentered. “But he raised his arm and I think he was trying to open his eyes when I asked him to.”

Lailah smiled. “That’s good. I know it’s small progress, but it’s still progress.”

Aziraphale pulled her aside a moment away from the bed, his face serious. “What’s it going to be like when he’s finally out of the coma? I’ve heard of humans needing lots of care afterwards because they need to learn things like walking and eating all over again,” he asked quietly concern in his sky blue eyes. “That’ll devastate him.”

“I don’t know . . . the angel comas I’ve observed in my bit of training were quick . . . few hours at most until the healers got things under control,” said Lailah. “Then they were back to normal.”

“That gives me hope,” he replied, looking a bit more relieved. 

He saw to Rowan, who was awake and in need of a nappy change. Then he stood by Crowley’s bed holding her and talking to both of them, cooing at the baby and telling Crowley how she was spending more time alert. 

It was several hours later while reading to Crowley that he heard a groan from the bed. His heart skipped a beat. Setting the book down he looked up. 

“Crowley?”

His husband’s eyes were open looking around like he was confused until he turned his head and looked directly at Aziraphale, saying his name, but while his lips formed all the syllables, it was so breathy that the angel only heard, “Zira.”

He didn’t care. His Crowley was back and he was beside his bed, grasping his hand, wanting so badly to kiss him but knowing it would be best not to overwhelm the newly-awake demon. “Hello there, my dear. You don’t know how glad I am to see you.”

Crowley smiled weakly. “Hi, angel,” he whispered. He clumsily grasped Aziraphale’s hand. “I heard you sometimes, you know.”

“Crowley? Is that really you?” Lailah was in the doorway looking excited. “Oh my God, you’re awake.” 

With a squeal she disappeared, the two husbands hearing her run off down the hall. Aziraphale laughed.

“I think she went to get Rowan,” he said. “How do you feel?”

“Tired. Weak. I don’t think I could get out of this bed if the room was on fire.”

Aziraphale was right. Lailah came back with the baby, plopping her on the bed with Crowley after Aziraphale helped him sit upright with the help of the adjustable bed and some pillows. The angel crawled in beside him, picking up the baby. Lailah smiled to see it.

She got out her mobile to make a call to Raphael. He didn’t pick up. He was probably doing rounds and left it on his desk because that was a common occurrence with him.

“I’d better go get Raph since he’s not answering his cell. Be right back.”

She headed out, flying across Heaven to the Healing Centre where some of Eleth’s spies waited for her. It was actually pure luck they encountered her at all as they were at the Centre to collect evidence. They cornered her near Raphael’s office. Only her still-extended wings kept them away from her. Panicked, she decided her best move would be to make as much noise as possible.

“Can I help you?” she asked loudly, her voice echoing through the empty halls. The Healing Centre, while important, didn’t see much business because angels were immortal beings who never got sick and rarely were injured severely.

“What are you up, Lailah?”

“I don’t see why it’s your business, Ramiel. I’m here to get Raphael. Now get out of my way.”

“What are you doing here? Stirring up more trouble?”

“I have work to do,” she replied.

“Probably is,” said one of Ramiel’s companions. “Once a traitor, always a traitor.”

“Coming up with other plans to start a new rebellion here? I’m surprised you haven’t Fallen yet for trying to thwart the Great Plan. We don’t want your kind here.” Ramiel got brave enough to grab her wing, tearing out a few feathers and causing her to yelp. “Go back to Earth where you belong. “

“Hey!” called a familiar voice from down the hallway. “Don’t you three have other things to be doing? Get back to your departments before I report you!”

She was never so relieved to see Raphael in her life. “Raph, thank you.”

“What are you doing here?” he demanded. “You need to lay low until all this shit passes. If you’re up here, you stay in the Almighty’s sector. It’s not like you can’t do your work from there.” 

“I tried calling you. If you’d bother to keep your cell phone on you it would help,” she retorted. “Crowley’s awake.”

“What? Let’s go.” 

He was striding towards the exit then in the air the moment he was outside. Lailah followed after, finding it hard to keep up with his long stride and efficient wing beats. He had landed and entered the gate before she was even in view of him.

Aziraphale answered the door when he knocked. “Come in, Raphael. Where’s Lailah?”

“She’s right behind me. She’s too small to keep up with my fastest flying, but she’ll be here in a few,” Raphael replied. “He’s awake?”

“Yes,” replied Aziraphale as they both headed down the hallway. “Just let me go in first. He’s not exactly going to be thrilled about this.”

“Neither am I,” muttered Raphael.

“Crowley, we have company,” Aziraphale said as he entered the room. “I told you I took you to Heaven for healing because we had no other choice.” He smiled a bit nervously. “Raphael is here to look you over, so please be polite. For me, at least?”

Crowley was too tired to argue. “Fine. Let him in.”

“He’s been watching over you this entire time.”

“Nice to see you awake, Crowley. I’ll be quick,” said Raphael. “Neither of us wants to see each other any more than necessary. May I?”

Crowley nodded allowing the Archangel to put his hands on the demon’s temples to read the state of his health. At least Raphael was polite enough to stay out of his mind; Crowley was too weak right now to shield against something like that.

“You look fine but you’re going to be weak for a while. You’ll need to exercise your muscles a bit after lying still for two weeks. Not that I expected brain damage. You’re a demon, not a human. Always good to check, though,” said Raphael. “We’ve never experienced a supernatural being spending that long in a coma. Anymore healing to take care of your energy problem is not up to me. The Almighty has said She’ll take it from there personally.”

“What?” asked Crowley.

Aziraphale shrugged. “We’re under Her protection, my dear. Remember?”

“Yes, but I didn’t expect to have Her in my life so often. It’s not like I’m a citizen of Heaven anymore.”

“Well, have fun with your little love spat there, I have a Centre to run.” Raphael swiftly exited the room, glad to be done with this whole affair.

“Prat,” muttered Crowley, watching him leave.

Raphael, muttering angrily wasn’t watching where he was going as he stormed down the path of the cottage, almost ran straight into God Herself. “Excuse me, Lord. I was just coming to see you.”

“I know. But I thought I’d beat you to it,” God replied. She smiled at him. “How’s our patient doing?”

“He’s awake and looks to be doing fine as far as I can tell. He and Aziraphale should be able to go home soon.”

“That’ll be nice for you, won’t it?” asked God with a sly smile. “Don’t worry, Raphael. Your secret is safe with Me. And do lighten up. After all you just helped heal one of the beings that kept Heaven in existence. There was no guarantee you were going to win either war.”

Raphael paused a moment and just decided to nod. “Yes, Lord.” He hurried on his way.

Lailah landed just then, having arrived earlier during God and Raphael’s conversation. She decided taking a long circle around was preferable to an awkward entrance into that. “Lord,” she said bowing her head. “You heard the news?”

“Yes. It’s about time. They’ve been through enough. Shall we? I’ll follow you since you have permission to come and go as you please. It would be rude of Me to do by Myself.”

Lailah nodded with a smile. 

God was informal, quirky and not at all like depicted in the Bible. She wasn’t even that fond of the title “Lord,” but She tolerated it because it reminded the angels that She was the Matriarch of this family. Maybe an overly permissive one . . . She knew what lay ahead for Lailah, but to stop it would be to rob her of important choices later on. Lailah’s grasp on free will was developing nicely and She could not stand in the way of that.

“Hello? Aziraphale? Crowley? We have company. The Almighty’s here.”

She could hear Aziraphale running to the door. “Lord, please come in. I assume you’ve heard Crowley’s awake?”

“Yes, please go ask him if he’ll see Me.”

Upon hearing the news, Crowley let his head flop back on his pillows. “Whyyyy does everyone insist on seeing me right now? I just got out of a coma. It’s the Almighty. Like I can refuse.”

“I’ll send Her in. I’m sorry, my dear. After this you can rest. It’ll just be us.” Soft kisses on his demon’s forehead helped smooth things over.

“Crowley,” said God as She entered, a smile upon Her face. “It makes Me glad to see you up and around.”

“Uh, hi,” the demon replied, never sure exactly how he should address or respond to the Creator who threw him out of Heaven, even if She had good reasons to.

“I know you’d rather not be up here, so if you’d allow me to reset your system, I can send you all home where you belong. “

Crowley nodded. He had found that being in God’s presence was the only time in his life he was actually tongue-tied. It was probably for the best because mouthing off to the most powerful being in the universe was the last time he wanted to do. 

“All righty then. Just close your eyes, relax and let Me work.” She had put Her hands on the sides of Crowley’s temples, Her head mere inches from his.

He closed his eyes out of sheer intimidation and tried not to let his nerves get the best of him. Aziraphale stood off to the side wringing his hands nervously. Lailah looked interested in the entire proceedings. Rowan merely slept in her bassinet.

Ten minutes passed before either God or Crowley stirred. The Almighty stepped away with a satisfied, “There! He’s back to normal. And if anything unusual happens again, come see Me instead of doing something stupid, ok? I can’t step in without being asked to help or I risk messing with free will, but My door’s always open for you two. When I said you were under My protection, I mean it. Now, can I hold that baby?” Without waiting for an answer, she walked over to scoop up Rowan. “She’ll be stubborn like you.” A look towards Aziraphale. “And have your temper.” A look towards Crowley. “Raising her will be an adventure. But she sure is growing already, isn’t she?”

And the Creator of all fell into baby talk, cooing at the closest thing She would ever had to a grandchild. Crowley, who felt like himself now, wasn’t sure if he should be amused or concerned about such a thing.

Later, after the Almighty had healed Crowley and gotten Her baby fix, Aziraphale and Crowley stood in the cottage’s mimicked lounge for goodbyes. Lailah gave them both hugs after holding Rowan and giving her some farewell kisses.

“I’ll be down soon, I promise. I really do need to stay up here at least a few weeks and see if I can’t start repairing the damage done between factions here,” she told them. 

“Will you be ok?” Aziraphale asked.

“I have Crowley’s cell . . .”

“Mobile,” he interrupted.

“Have it your way. Mobile number. I’ll keep in touch.” She laughed. “You guys aren’t getting rid of me that easily.” She gave Crowley one last hug, slipping to him the finished sketch of Aziraphale in a large envelope. “It’s not the best,” she whispered. “But I’ll have a chance to improve my skills.”

She waved them off before she started tearing up. Again.

~*~*~

_Seven months later_

In the flat in the bookshop, Crowley lay on the white leather couch dozing with an eight-month-old Rowan lying on his chest fast asleep. Aziraphale returned after closing the bookshop to find the two like that, his face showing his best “isn’t that adorable” look while he unconsciously put a hand over his heart upon viewing the scene. 

Crowley’s iPhone sat on the coffee table where he left it. Aziraphale had no idea how to use it, but a quick miracle pulled up the camera for him and took a few pictures. Crowley would complain about it like he always did, but as much as he groused about such cute shots, he never did delete them.

“You just took a picture, didn’t you?” the demon muttered.

“Well,” said Aziraphale in his defense. “She’s only going to be a baby once and I’d like memories of it.”

“Mmm, fine. But for the love of all, you take so many I have to upload to the cloud constantly anymore.”

“I’m going to pretend I know what you’re talking about,” Aziraphale hung the cardigan he always wore in the shop on the coat stand by the door. “What’s for dinner?”

“Coq au vin,” replied Crowley. “I have it simmering on the cooker.”

“You spoil me,” said Aziraphale leaning down for a kiss.

“I know,” replied Crowley. “Sometimes you’re even worth it.”

Aziraphale snorted and went to check on dinner. Seeing it was ready, he set the table, plated the food and chose some baby food for Rowan. 

“She’s decided not to eat green beans,” called Crowley.

“Why not?”

“I don’t know! Ask her.”

She didn’t appear hungry after waking up, so Crowley put up the baby gate to keep her out of the hallway and let her crawl around the lounge where a large basket of baby toys sat for her amusement. But a baby gate wasn’t a guarantee when raising a supernatural being. She had been doing things lately like manifesting her wings or scales or divine light. They were heavily in discussions to move to the isolation of their weekend cottage until Rowan gained control of her powers. Aziraphale was particularly resistant to leaving behind London with all its familiarity, even if only temporarily.

“She flew over the gate again,” said Crowley at dinner. “Your turn.”

Sighing, Aziraphale put down his fork and went to fetch their wayward daughter. “No, Rowan. We don’t fly over things.”

He touched her back to put her black-and-white mottled wings away and set the laughing infant back in front of her toys. She crawled off to the couch where she pulled herself upright. Turning to Aziraphale, she smiled at him.

“Hi!” It was the one word she knew and at this age she really shouldn’t know any. Her precocious nature was starting to show through making both her parents worry about her being noticed as different by the humans.

“Hi, Rowan,” he replied. “You stay here and play. Or are you ready to eat?”

She fell on her well-padded bottom, holding her arms out to him while babbling happily. He picked her up and brought her to the kitchen. Putting her in the high chair, he lazily miracled some baby food over for her before his own dinner got cold.

Crowley set a box of baby cereal in front of him. “You always forget to thicken it. At least then it gets in her mouth.”

Rowan was adamant about feeding herself making every mealtime an adventure. It was less so since Crowley read the trick about thickening baby food instead of just giving her a bowl, a spoon she couldn’t use no matter how much she wanted to and waiting until the carnage was over to try to get food in her mouth.

“It’s cold,” grumbled Aziraphale about his coq au vin after doctoring the baby food. 

“Should I mention you do have the means to fix that?”

“No. Just let me complain.”

“Welcome to parenthood. What do you think I do all day while you’re in the bookshop?” replied Crowley as he sipped his wine. “Anthony J. Crowley, stay-at-home dad. This is what my life has become.” But he didn’t look the least bit sorry about it as he smiled at Aziraphale.

“Funny how human we’ve become,” mused Aziraphale as he stared at a carrot-covered baby valiantly trying to put a fistful of mush in her mouth.

“I’ll show you how human I can be once the kid’s asleep.”

“Insatiable aren’t you?” 

After the dinner mess, including Rowan, was cleaned up, Aziraphale sat on the couch to read to her while Crowley leaned up against him flipping through his mobile. It was Aziraphale’s nightly ritual with her to calm her down for bedtime and most of the time it worked. It did tonight and they were able to tuck her into her cot without much fuss from her.

Crowley caught him up in an embrace when they barely hit the hallway. He was sucking at his neck, his hands holding Aziraphale’s wrists against the wall he was backed up against. The angel raised his head, offering him more of his neck, moaning as Crowley darkened his throat with small bruises before moving further south to give his collarbones some attention. The bowtie disappeared and shirt buttons opened for access.

“We’re going to wake the baby,” Aziraphale gasped. “Couch or bed?”

“Why limit ourselves? I want to do it in the office again. We haven’t since my little trip to Heaven there,” Crowley replied. “I want to sit in that chair while you eat me out then you can bend me over the desk and fuck me. You said you missed my vagina.”

“ _Mmm_. . . Yes, about eight months ago. Also, I wish you’d use terms that are less off-putting, my dear. _Oh! Right there!_ ”

“Do you think we need condoms?”

“Crowley, really now . . .” Aziraphale said half-laughing as he was dragged to the office. 

“You want to?” asked Crowley as he was pushed against the desk and kissed within an inch of his life.

“Get your trousers off and get in that chair before I change my mind.”

Crowley didn’t have to be told twice. He seated himself on that throne of his, bum on the edge of the seat, legs open, arms twined around the posts making up the back. Aziraphale knelt before him, sleeves rolled up, shirt partially unbuttoned. 

“I have an idea,” said Aziraphale and a moment later Crowley felt something smooth and slightly chilly slide into him. “I didn’t know you still had this until I was going through the nightstand drawers looking for a charge cord for the tablet.”

Crowley felt the buzzy impression of his long-forgotten vibrator surprised that Aziraphale chose to use a toy since that was a rare happening. He relaxed with hum, leaning into it, canting his hips so that it buzzed against his clit as Aziraphale moved it in and out. 

“No,” said the angel firmly, slapping him on the thigh. “This is for warmup, not to make you climax. Put those hips down.”

Instead Crowley rode warm tingling vibrations that teased, floating close to that wanted orgasm but falling so far from it. Rocking against the toy in his cunt, he moaned out his pleasure and disappointment in the situation. Warring feelings. Part of him wanted to scream at Aziraphale to give him an orgasm. The other part was enjoying the slow buildup. There was something about slow and sensual. It didn’t always need to be a rush to orgasm. Crowley leaned back and just relished it, moving his hips slightly.

“That’s it, my dear. Enjoy it. Just take it slow. We’re not here to run a race,” said Aziraphale soothingly. 

Lovely demon. So gorgeous with his hands twined around the chair, sweat dampening his hair slightly and mouth parted as he panted from the stimulation. Cherished demon. Aziraphale loved him beyond measure. 

_He is too good for Heaven._

Crowley reached out, groping blindly for Aziraphale until the angel brought his face close enough that Crowley could caress his cheek. “Love you, angel.”

There never was an “I”. It was just not Crowley’s style. He had spent thousands of years putting up walls, building defenses, learning to never, ever let his guard down if he wanted to survive the environment he was thrown into when he Fell. Emotions were hard and it was enough he actually said “Love you.” It meant he had started chipping away at all Hell had done to him and realizing that even he had a heart built for love. He was worthy of love and could love in return. 

They had made it. The angel and the demon lying now on a hastily conjured mattress covered in the softest of blankets and fluffiest of pillows, as they tenderly made love. They had survived what Heaven and Hell had thrown at them. They had endured the aftermath of Rowan’s birth and the unintended consequences of the spell. And now they had had months of quiet where they could concentrate on their marriage and their family.

It might not have been perfection, but it was Paradise. 

As Aziraphale thrust into Crowley, causing them both to reach climax, the love they felt for each other made them realize that right now they were finally living in their long-awaited time of peace and unspoiled happiness.


	10. Book 2: The Consequences of Free Will

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lailah's missing thanks to Heaven and the clock's ticking on finding her. There is one upset child with the power to destroy Realms if her family remains torn apart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rape/non-con will be implied in Book 2. No actual sexual violence will be shown. There is none in this particular chapter.

~*~*~

Chapter 10: Judgments and Prophecies

~*~*~

Lailah sat in her office, wiping the tears she had been crying from her eyes. Things were calmer now that the angels weren’t allowed to physically bully her, but that didn’t mean they didn’t psychologically do so. Random notes and the isolation she suffered since they all basically ostracized her now were taking their toll. Only Raphael showed her kindness among the Host itself. 

A knock at her door caused her to look up, drying her tears as she did so. “Come in!”

Raphael entered, taking a seat in the chair in front of her desk. These days he was the only one to occupy it. What friends she had left resided on Earth. 

“Hey Lailah. I’m afraid I am the bearer of bad news,” he said smiling a bit nervously.

“What this time?” she sighed. “Since they all so love to harass me in whatever ways possible.”

“The higher-ups want your office for a new position they’re making. You’re to move out the cubicles.”

“There are empty offices, Raph. What’s the excuse this time?”

“That you have a bigger office than the empty ones. That your position is largely automated these days and you basically are just in it because of tradition. They view it as mostly ceremonial anymore,” he said. “I spent an hour trying to convince them otherwise, but obviously I didn’t win that argument. I’m sorry, kiddo.”

“Well, if I’m doing this merely for ceremonial purposes, then I quit.” She stood up and stalked out into the hallway.

“Lailah! Come back! We can try to work this out! We’ll plead your case again,” called Raphael behind her as she headed for the door. “Lailah, angels don’t just leave their positions. It’s unheard of!”

She turned around, furious. “But they do get fired. Or at least one has. Tell your bosses that I’m not going to come in to work unless I get to keep my office. If that doesn’t fly with them, they can fire me.”

“If you want to be taking a page out of someone’s book, Aziraphale is not the best example,” he replied. “Please come back and we can handle this in a civilized manner.”

Flipping a finger in the air at him even though he wouldn’t get the meaning, she was out the door, walking towards her apartment. It wasn’t far away so she was unlocking her door before the tears really started to come. Flopping on her couch, she started to sob, crying for a while before deciding a soak would be nice. Angel accommodations were different from human ones. Lailah’s little place had a large open room akin to a living room, a smaller room she used as an office and a bathing room that was just a small pool big enough for an angel with their wings out to bathe in.

Wings required a lot of care and a good wash every now and again kept them their whitest.

Sniffing a bit, she stood up and screamed.

“There’s really no need for that,” said God in an amused voice as she turned a light on. She had seated Herself on a table Lailah had in the corner, as surreal as it looked for an older woman in a robe and veil with endless night in Her eyes to be perched on that surface.

“Sorry, Lord,” Lailah muttered. “If I may be frank, sometimes I swear You gave Crowley Your sense of humour.”

“It’s a possibility,” She replied. “If I may be frank, I believe those two made you an offer. And you accepted. What happened?”

“I don’t know . . . I told them yes at first, then said I’d probably need to run it past Raphael before I did anything,” Lailah sat back down because she felt she was going to be here awhile. 

“Come,” said God. “Let’s take a walk.”

Suddenly Lailah was with Her in the Garden of Eden. All the angels knew She had saved it somewhere when she removed it from Earth but none knew where it was located. Lailah looked around. The Tree was not far from them, still covered in enticing fruit. A trail frozen in time stretched from the Tree off towards the eastern wall. It was nothing more than a long line of flattened grass curving through the Garden, a trail that could have easily been made by a rather large snake.

“Shouldn’t there be human footprints as well?” Lailah asked. 

“No,” replied God, walking east. “This Garden was never about them. It was about putting into to motion the two who would save the world.”

“Oh.”

They walked on in silence, Lailah too intimidated to ask any further questions.

“You don’t have to stay in Heaven. Even angels have the right to redefine their purpose.”

Lailah picked her way through the grass, trying to keep up on both the walk and the conversation. “What do you mean, Lord?”

“You have an adopted family on Earth who loves you. You don’t need to be miserable and you don’t need to be here to do your job. In fact you could do it better on Earth. Or you could really quit your job instead of just mouthing off to Raphael. You could be free of it.” God picked her way to the wall and stood there before the rough stones. She had put her hand on it, looking up.

“But You created us with purpose. I don’t understand.”

“You seem to believe your purpose is to stay in Heaven and tough it out. But you don’t have to do that. And I can’t step in to completely stop the bullying. Free will is fragile and even stepping in to help Crowley and Aziraphale was risky, but the world and a baby’s future were at stake. I’m sorry I can’t do more for you than I have. I don’t like what some of my angels have become.” She spread her wings and flew to the top of the wall.

Lailah followed suit, manifesting her wings and taking off to land lightly on the wall that still overlooked a desert, even if it wasn’t a desert on Earth. The winds buffeted her wings, blowing her feathers into uncomfortable positions. 

But a single white feather lay on the stone apparently immune to being blown away by the strong gusts. The Almighty picked it up. 

“They both left their mark here. They had the most important purpose I could give an angel. And one of them had to become a demon to fulfill it. But they came through with flying colours and the world lives on because of them,” She said. “Crowley was my hope. He was the catalyst for free will, then when that didn’t take in the angels, he became the one needed to put the Antichrist on the path that ultimately spared Earth. Aziraphale was the one who had to walk along the path with him to temper him and be his support because nobody can take on a heavy burden without that. He would have failed without Aziraphale.”

“But their purpose is done,” said Lailah, starting to realize. “And they found another. They live in exile on Earth because that’s what makes them happy. They knew their choices would lead them there. But I wouldn’t be in exile, would I?”

“No. Not if you didn’t want to be. But you could tell the Host to shove it and leave permanently. It’s up to you. _You_ have to define _yourself_ now. You’re not like the other angels anymore, Lailah. You embraced free will,” replied God. She examined Aziraphale’s shed feather before putting it back down again. It was still in no danger of being blown off the wall. “You’re in the same category as Crowley and Aziraphale. It’s time to make your own choices instead of living by what has been written. They asked you to come live with them at the cottage. You must decide if you want to take them up on their offer or stay here. If you’re going to keep working for Heaven or be another guardian angel for Earth.”

“What do you think I should do, Lord?”

“I can’t make that choice for you. It’s up to you now.”

The Garden and the Almighty faded away. Lailah was standing back in her apartment as if she was never visited or left it.

Suddenly feeling determined, she marched to the closet in her home office, pulled out a suitcase she kept there for when she was tapped to go on missions and started to throw her clothes in it.

~*~*~

_A little over two years later_

A barefoot three-year-old with curly strawberry blond hair ran through the surf laughing as sea water splashed the hem of her dress. It was a silvery light blue with a skirt covered in stars. She carried a bucket in which she occasionally dropped interesting things she found along the shoreline. Behind her trailed a young woman with light brown hair and green eyes who also carried a bucket.

“Lailah! Look!” Rowan held up a small smooth rock with an interesting swirl pattern of greys all over it. 

“Nice! Who’s that for?”

“Daddy.”

“Daddy” meant Crowley, although he would have preferred to just be called “Crowley.” Aziraphale was “Papa.”

“Ok.” Lailah held out the bucket she was holding and Rowan dropped it in. “Do you think we have enough now?”

It was starting to get chilly and the wind had picked up. Lailah was worried about her small charge getting cold standing here in the water. When Rowan nodded, she picked her up and headed back to the cottage.

Aziraphale and Crowley had headed into town to do some shopping. They said they wouldn’t be long so when Lailah heard noises in the cottage she figured they were back. Putting her bucket on the table, she headed from the kitchen to the living room.

“Aziraphale? Crowley? You guys here?” she called as Rowan ran off to her room. 

“Hello, Lailah. It took us two years of searching, but we found where you took off to. Didn’t know these two still had this cottage.” Eleth smiled. Two Powers who were part of the Law and Justice Department were with him. “They let me tag along since I was a key witness at your trial. You were convicted _in absentia_ of abandoning your post.”

“What?” Lailah burst out.

“You’ve been sentenced to time as a mortal,” said one the Powers. “You need to prepare for transformation. You’ll be taken to a human city, given a place to live and you’ll serve out your sentence there until we feel you are repentant and ready to come back as an angel.”

“No. You’re not going to touch me. I’m allowed now to make my own choices,” Lailah said angrily. “Ask the Almighty. Did you bother to consult with Her before having your little trial?”

“No,” replied Eleth. “You didn’t hear? Betelgeuse is acting funny, so She’s off with a crew trying to fix it. It’s not time for it to go supernova yet. Time’s up, Lailah. Let’s go.”

Lailah made a dash for Rowan’s bedroom, determined to grab her and transport out of there. A side table crashed onto its side as she banged into it making a mad dash to the hallway. A Power caught up to her, tackling her before she got very far down it. She looked up to see Rowan standing there, her face contorted with fear as she breathed hard.

“Daddy! Papa!” she screamed at the top of her lungs.

Eleth approached her as Lailah protested. “Do what you want to me, but just wait until Aziraphale and Crowley get home. She’s too young to be left alone!”

“She’ll be fine,” he said as Lailah struggled against her captor. Grabbing a crying Rowan by the arm he brought her back to the living room. “I’m half tempted to take her with us, just to get you to cooperate. You wouldn’t want anything to happen to her, would you?”

“No!”

“Just lock her in a room. She’s outside of our jurisdiction,” said one of his companions. 

Eleth shoved the crying child in a cupboard, wedging the back of a kitchen chair under the doorknob to ensure she’d stay there. “Ok, let’s get this done.”

“You have no right!” Lailah struggled against the strong grip of the angel holding her.

They started their spell only to be interrupted by the arrival of Aziraphale and Crowley.

“Lailah!” Aziraphale cried. 

Crowley prepared an offensive spell. “Get back, Aziraphale. They’re beyond your abilities. Go find Rowan.”

“This isn’t your business, Serpent.”

“It is very much my business,” Crowley replied with a low growl. “She’s family, now let her go.”

“You’ll have her back in a few years if that’s the case,” the Power holding her replied and snapped their fingers.

“Crowley!” Lailah cried before she disappeared with them, Eleth and the other taking off at the same time. 

Crowley slammed a fist against the wall, cursing. 

~*~*~

Inside the dark cupboard, Rowan cried as she listened to the commotion. She tried finding the doorknob, but the door wouldn’t budge once she located it. Lailah was upset. She could hear her crying, men screaming at her. But even the three-year-old knew they weren’t men. She could sense they weren’t human. They were light, like Papa and Lailah. Daddy was dark. That is all she knew. They had yet to explain to her angels and demons or where she fit into it all. She was simply aware she was not human.

Then she heard Papa and Daddy’s voices as well. They were be worried about her. She curled up there in the blackness scared and wanting the comfort her parents provided so badly. Sobbing, she wished very hard that she was with them.

And disappeared with a gentle pop.

~*~*~

Aziraphale quickly found the blocked cupboard. Carefully unwedging the chair, he wiggled it out from under the doorknob, putting it aside to fling open the door.

“Rowan, darling, I’m here. It’s all . . . right . . .” He paused, reaching out to clutch the doorframe for support as his knees went weak.

The cupboard was empty. 

Frantic he ran from room to room screaming “Rowan!” at the top of his lungs, checking every conceivable space a small child could hide in. Nothing. There was no sign of her.

“Crowley! Is Rowan with you?”

“No. I’ll check outside” Aziraphale heard him trying to keep the panic out of his voice, then the sound of the backdoor slamming followed.

Cottage empty and every space double checked, Aziraphale joined him, thinking first of running down to the beach, fearing the worst. He breathed a sigh of relief when it was deserted. Crowley was checking the bushes in the side yard. Aziraphale ran to the orchard, checking to make sure Rowan hadn’t panicked, manifested wings and ended up in a tree when she tried to fly. Nothing. He could hear Crowley calling for her and knew he wasn’t having success, either. 

The demon ran up to him. 

“Anything?” asked Aziraphale.

“No. They took Lailah. I don’t think they took Rowan." Suddenly he paused and sniffed, like he did several years ago when Dog found Adam. His eyes, free from their curse, turned from the amber shade he made them in public when he didn’t feel like using the sunglass back to their serpentine look that he was more comfortable with. He pulled sunglasses out of his coat pocket and slid them on. “I’m going up to the bookshop. Stay here.”

“If it’s about Rowan or Lailah, I want to come.” 

“Angel, I need to do this alone ok? Here.” He touched Aziraphale’s head initiating a mental link between them so they could communicate over distances. “If you still have contacts in Heaven, maybe you could try to get in touch. Get us some leads on Lailah.”

He kissed Aziraphale, the angel putting his arms around him to hug him as tightly as possible. They held each other for a while before Crowley pulled back with a sad smile.

“Be careful, my dear.”

“I will.” 

Crowley disappeared.

~*~*~

Ligur had staked out the bookshop, waiting under exactly the same tree Hastur had years earlier when he was stalking Crowley to intimidate him. He leaned against it smoking in the same manner as Hastur, even, stifling a yawn as nothing continued to happen. Scanning the area one last time, he had all but decided to leave when a small popping sound caught his attention.

A small strawberry blond child wearing a silvery blue dress with no shoes appeared before the bookshop doors. She attempted to open them, then knocked on the door, sobbing as she did so. Ligur quickly approached her before more humans strolled into the area. It would not do to have her found by them then spirited away to their law enforcement officials like they seemed to do with lost children. 

“Hey,” he said crouching down beside her.

She shrank up against the doors, frightened. He conjured up some chocolate to hold out to her. Tentatively, she took it.

“You’re dark. Like my daddy.” He figured she was talking about demon auras. 

“Yes,” he replied simply.

“Where is he? And my papa?”

Ligur shook his head, trying his best to reorient his demonic tendencies so he could actually deal with her without scaring her. This was not the child to frighten. She had enough power to tear him apart and little control over it right now. He’d been secretly checking in on her progress now and again. As much as he loathed her parents, this child needed to be protected for everyone’s sake.

“We can wait for them inside. I can’t get us in though. It’s locked,” he said. Aziraphale still had the place very well warded, now with Crowley’s protections woven in as extra fortification. “Can you get us in?”

“No powers. They have to say ok.” She twisted the hem of her dress up in her fingers.

This was going nowhere. He sighed and turned them invisible to mortals to keep anyone from stopping to ask awkward questions that might require him to do something nasty in front of a child. He had no time for nosy humans. They sat there a few minutes, Rowan sniffing occasionally.

He tried to talk to her, but speaking to children was not something any demon was good at, so he just kept giving her candy while his mind kept wandering to how surreal this whole situation was.

Then his entire train of thought was completely derailed when the door open causing him to fall backwards into the entryway. A surprised looking Crowley snatched up Rowan, who was excitedly screaming “Daddy!” He attempted to shove Ligur out the door and slam it shut, but the Duke of Hell was quick. He was on his feet banging the bookshop’s door open before Crowley could completely get him out of the way.

“You step in here and you’ll regret it,” Crowley snarled, holding Rowan as far away from Ligur as possible. “I think we have the wards strong enough that you’ll end up discorporated if you take another step in here. Want to test that for us?”

“For Satan’s sake, Crowley, we’re on the same side here. If I wanted to harm your daughter, I would have done so instead of waiting at the door with her. I don’t like you, but it would be better if we were working together.”

Crowley sighed but snapped his fingers. “The ward will allow you in, but if you come within two feet of me or Rowan, it’ll do what it’s supposed to. Understand?”

“Fine. If that’s what it takes.” Ligur entered, trying to ignore the angry buzz of the ward around him. He fingered the scrap of paper in his pocket that would hopefully explain everything.

~*~*~

_Aziraphale? I found Rowan. She was at the bookshop and Ligur was with her. Don’t worry, he’s not out to harm us or her . . . I’ll explain later. He’s telling me why he’s protecting Rowan again. Any clues on Lailah?_

Aziraphale took a moment to breathe a sigh of relief before responding. _Thank goodness. I’m talking with Raphael and Gabriel, of all people, although I think he’s just involved to get back into the Almighty’s good graces. They put Lailah on trial and sentenced her a period of time living Earth as a human. We’re trying to track where they took her right now and have some good leads._

_Good. I hope we find her soon._

~*~*~

Crowley sat on the couch, Rowan in his lap, staring warily at the Duke of Hell pacing back and forth in front of him. He drew his daughter closer, a spell prepared to launch at him if needs be. Ligur noticed with a glare that made his eyes flare bright red.

“For Satan’s sake, Crowley, put it away,” he said. “I’m not here to hurt you or her. I’m not your friend, but right now we need to talk.”

“I don’t know what we could possibly say to each other after all these millennia. It’s not like we ever actually got on.”

Ligur stopped wearing a hole in the carpet, pausing in front of Crowley. “We’re going to have to work together now, because if we don’t get Auntie Lailah back, it’s going to be the end of Heaven and Hell.” He pointed at the child on Crowley’s lap, contented with playing on an app on his mobile for now. “You’re holding the most powerful angel or demon to ever walk any of the Realms. Best I can interpret is that if we don’t find Lailah in time, it’ll affect how Rowan sees Heaven and Hell, and one day she’ll decide to take her revenge. She had enough power to take out both Realms if she wants to. She’ll spare Earth, but that’s it. I know you don’t need to worry. You’re her parents but the rest of us are in the crosshairs.”

“Interpret?” asked Crowley. “You make it sound like there’s a prophecy. The one true prophecy book’s last predictions didn’t go beyond the events at Tadfield.”

Ligur fished in his dirty coat pocket for a slip of paper that he held out, indicating Crowley should take it. Crowley conjured it to himself. “I don’t know how that ended up in my pocket when you guys returned me to the physical world, but it did.”

Unknown to the two demons, it was a prophecy from Agnes Nutter’s second book that Anathema and Newt burned the Sunday after the world didn’t end. The burned copy showed up in the spirit world after its destruction and serendipitously ended up in Ligur’s possession after he found it pacing endlessly around the little half-world he was stuck in. Reading it gave him something to do, but most of the prophecies pertained to humans and events that would affect an extremely small number of them, namely the Device family. Only one caught his attention.

_”If the Angel of the Unborn spends too much time separated from the Hybrid, it shall spell the destruction of the two Realms. The Hybrid will remember they tried to harm her family.”_

He had ripped it out, sticking it in the pocket of his dingy ripped coat just in case he got back to the physical world, just in case it could survive and become physical as well. He had found the slip of paper safe in there after Aziraphale banished him to Hell.

Crowley read it, sobering as he did so, before returning it to Ligur. “There’s no way she is that powerful. Two low-ranking parents like Aziraphale and me?”

“You’re hardly low-ranking on the power scale, Crawly. Don’t give me that sh . . . garbage. You could have been sitting pretty in the demon hierarchy, but you didn’t care.” He headed for the door. “I’m going to help your angel look for Lailah. You stay here and try to keep your attitude positive because the impressions and memories your child forms now are going to affect her attitudes toward Heaven and Hell later.”

Ligur stalked out the door, slamming it behind him, leaving Crowley to wonder how he was going to keep the trauma of having someone close to her disappear from searing itself into Rowan’s mind so permanently she’d decide one day that Earth would be better off on its own.

He didn’t care for either Heaven or Hell, but both were full of angels and demons who were just doing their jobs because they had no other choice, innocent of any actual wrongdoing against Lailah, him, Aziraphale or Rowan herself. They didn’t deserve to be wiped out of existence for being in the wrong place at the wrong time. The implications of failure if he could not keep Rowan from developing hatred against the two Realms chilled him. He didn’t want the permanent deaths of twenty million supernatural beings on his conscious.

_Aziraphale? I’m bringing Rowan home now. We have a lot to talk about._


	11. Powerless and Alone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lailah is hidden away on Earth after everything goes awry. Missing memories, vague details begin to leak through and a young man takes too much of an interest in her. Back at the cottage Crowley and Aziraphale plan a search other a few other angels and demons.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The content warning applies to this chapter although everything is implied, not described. It's in the second section of this chapter if you wish to skip it.

They left her with a human contact of Eleth’s – a pastor who ran a small church in a rural part of the United States far off the beaten path. Eleth thought the state was Kansas or Arkansas or Tennessee but he wasn’t sure. It didn’t matter. What mattered was Lailah was hidden and would stay that way until they could fix things.

Transporting while doing the spell had left her powerless but still an angel. Which meant it was possible Aziraphale could still find her through his connection to the Host – one could feel the general attitude of the Host at large and the more specific feelings of angels they were close to. Yet rumours were he had cut himself off from the Host when he learned the truth about Crowley’s pregnancy. None of those involved in Lailah’s abduction knew for sure. They were not friends of Aziraphale’s therefore could not sense his individual presence in the Host. One of the Powers had also suppressed Lailah’s recent memories as a precaution. She recalled nothing about Aziraphale (beyond him being Heaven’s field agent), Crowley or Rowan. They would be easily returnable once her sentence was served, but for now it was best she didn’t get any notions to try to escape. Her powers would replenish in two to three months at the most. 

By then hopefully they could get back down to Earth to redo the spell and she could serve out the sentence as originally planned. That is what the three of them hoped because they had made such a convoluted mess of this, they themselves were at risk of punishment. 

Until then, they had to hope she stayed hidden enough Aziraphale and his demon husband wouldn’t be able to locate her. Eleth said he’d keep an eye on the situation. The Powers hoped he wouldn’t sell them out for involving him when they should not have. 

Lailah currently stood in the elderly man’s living room confused. Apparently she was involved in a mission gone terribly wrong and now had her powers temporarily sucked out by a demon she was battling. Eleth told her she had to hide out at this church now until they replenished. 

“How long would will it take?” she had asked.

“Oh,” he replied breezily. “Only two or three months, but you must stay here. You know demons can’t walk on consecrated ground without getting burned. You’ll be safe.”

She was confused by this. Why couldn’t she just return to Heaven and have Raphael heal her? He could solve the problem. Eleth told her this wasn’t possible because the demons were watching her waiting for her to give them a path up to attack Heaven itself.

“But there are protections against that,” she had protested.

He had gotten angry with her. “Just do what you’re told. You’re not privy to all of Heaven’s security measures you know. Stay here and one of us will come back for you when it’s safe.”

She came back to the present, looking around the place. The pastor approached her. He had been down the hallway preparing the guest bedroom for her. Looking to be in his seventies, what hair he had left was greying at the temples. Glasses perched on the end of his nose added to his friendly look which so far had translated into a kind demeanor. She smiled at him.

“I have the guest bedroom made up. It’s been a while since I’ve had company. Not since my wife passed on and family came to stay. Our children are grown and live out of the state,” he said. “I hope it’s comfortable and I know this isn’t the best situation, but it’s better than being homeless. You can stay here until you back on your feet.”

“Thanks, Bill. I do appreciate it.”

“Do you need something to eat?” he asked. 

“No,” she replied. “I’ll be fine. I’d just like to rest.”

He showed her to her room and left, saying he’d be there if she needed anything. She looked around. It was quaint, with furniture that looked like had been in the rectory forever. It was of the waterfall style popular back during the Depression. The bed had a couple of handmade quilts on it and all the pictures on the wall were of a religious nature. One was a needlework stating “In God, All Things Are Possible” written in flowing script and surrounded by flowers. But another was much more interesting.

It was of a garden. A man and a woman stood in the center of it looking devastated in that overly dramatic manner of Renaissance-style paintings everywhere. Beside them an angel with a flaming sword pointed sternly off-painting. On the other side of them was a partially eaten apple that looked like it had been dropped on the ground after they took a couple of bites. Further past the apple was the tree it apparently came from. It was covered in similar apples and wound around the lowest branch watching the entire scene was a large black snake.

She stared at it. Adam. Eve. The Serpent of Eden. And the Angel of the Eastern Gate. Entities all angels were aware of, but she felt she had a closer connection to them. The immortals depicted anyway. For some reason she knew the Serpent’s eyes should be golden yellow, not ruby red. It was his belly that was red. And it was rare the Angel of the Eastern Gate ever looked that stern unless you messed with his books.

A much-loved vintage car. A bookshop that held a prized collection. The Serpent in more human form giving the Angel of the Eastern Gate the softest of kisses. A young child who looked like both of them.

She sucked in her breath confused as to why these images were bombarding her brain. Then she suddenly felt exhausted. Collapsing on the bed, she lay there motionless for the longest of times even if she didn’t sleep. Her mind was trying to tell her something; she had to figure out what.

She emerged later when Bill invited her out for dinner. She told him she wasn’t hungry but came out to sit with him anyway because she needed to get to know the person she was stuck with until further notice. Besides, it was quite possible he could aid her in figuring things out. 

“Do you have any pencils and paper? I like to draw,” she said. Maybe if she drew their faces it would help her remember.

“I keep some art supplies here for the kids and we can go into town tomorrow to get you some real stuff,” he replied. “I’ll get them out for you after dinner. Are you sure you don’t want something to eat?”

“No, thanks. I’m fine. But thank you for getting the supplies out for me.”

She’d figure this out. She knew she would.

After dinner, Bill dug a box of coloured pencils and a pad of paper out of his office. Setting them on the kitchen table, he beckoned Lailah over to examine them. She dug through them and found them adequate enough for her needs. She was drawing for herself, not for an art show. 

“Thank you, Bill. You are too kind.”

She sat there sketching, drawing first the redhead with the snake eyes that she was so sure was the Serpent of Eden. She knew who the Angel of the Eastern Gate was. He occasionally came to Heaven to make reports to his department and she had run into him in the hallways once or twice. His face was familiar, but the images her brain tossed up of him with books and him being affectionate with the Serpent were not. Why would she think an angel and a demon would get involved like a couple of human lovers?

“That’s unusual,” Bill commented as he approached to watch her draw. “Why the cat eyes?”

Lailah smiled up at him. “Oh, just a dream I had. Can you imagine if people had eyes like cats? I wonder if they’d be more nocturnal or what?”

He shrugged. “It’s an interesting thought, but I’m glad God created me the way I am.”

He went back to emptying the dishwasher which he had run after dinner. Lailah resumed her drawing, now sketching out the Serpent as female in a full-body illustration. Her hand seemed to work on its own, drawing out a tall thin woman with shoulder-length hair like the male version, but amber eyes and a belly that made her look about four months pregnant. 

Eyes that changed from a golden with vertically slit pupils to very human despite the rare amber iris colour. A curse. To show the world a transgression. A curse lifted. A serpentine demon comfortable in their own skin, snake eyes and all.

Lailah’s head hurt. She grabbed at it, tears burning in her eyes. 

“Are you ok?” Bill asked.

“I . . . I can’t remember some things, I think. There are bits and pieces that keep coming back to me,” she stammered out.

“I’m sorry,” he said, his compassion evident in his eyes. “My friend and his friends who brought you by said you looked like you’d been through a lot and were worried. I can take you to a doctor if you need one.”

“I doubt a doctor can help me, but thanks.” She gathered up the supplies and her drawings, heading back to her room.

There, she sat at the desk staring at the drawing of the pregnant female demon wondering where her mind would come up with such an idea. She sensed sadness, dread and anxiety. She saw angels and demons preparing for war. God was holding an infant in front of the armies. The Angel of the Eastern Gate had his flaming sword but was dressed in more modern clothes than what he wore in Eden.

Pushing the papers out of the way, she laid down her head and sobbed, only pulling it up again when she head a knock on the door. 

“Yeah? Come in.”

It was not Bill at the door, but a younger man with dark blond hair and good looks who appeared to be in his early thirties. He smiled at Lailah in a self-depreciating manner. “Sorry to bother you, but Bill said he left my deacon robes in the closet in here. He took them in to be dry cleaned.”

“Oh. Ok.”

“I’m Mason,” he said as he pulled them out of his closet. “It’s nice to meet you and I hope you’re able to get back on your feet soon.” He looked sheepish. “I talked to Bill a bit.”

“Oh, thanks. I’m Lailah. It’s nice to meet you.” She didn’t know what else to say to him. This whole situation was strange even for her.

“Well, I’m kind of invading your privacy, so I’ll let you be. Maybe I’ll see you later.” He ducked out again, leaving Lailah alone.

She decided to try sleeping. It would help pass the time and she had to keep up appearances anyway, which meant doing more human things than she was used to since she was in such close proximity to one. Tomorrow she would have to at least nibble at meals. It would seem strange if she didn’t eat at all.

Pulling back the quilt on the bed, she slipped in and pulled it over herself. Lying there in the dark, she wasn’t able to actually sleep but fell in to some sort of reverie where weird disjointed thoughts marched across her mind like dreams. The most prominent was a rowan tree that bloomed white then produced red berries. What was so important about a tree?

What all was she missing and did the demon she encountered take all these memories from her when they drained her powers? She wanted to contact Raphael, but her cell phone was missing.

Back out in the living room, Bill talked more to Mason as he lingered by the front door. 

“She seems to have a past she’s not remembering. I think we need to pray for her,” he said. “But maybe she needs to be here for a while or permanently. God will reveal all to us.”

Mason nodded. “Yes, but you really need to stop taking in strays. One of these days it’s going to turn dangerous.”

Although this time he was sure it wasn’t dangerous. It was just a young woman this time; a very attractive one that he hoped he could get to know better. 

~*~*~

Mason appeared the next afternoon offering to take Lailah out shopping for more clothes and art supplies. She looked helplessly from him to Bill at the suggestion not at all feeling comfortable with this idea.

“Isn’t there a woman in your congregation who could help me?” she asked.

“We do have our Ladies’ Society, but they’re out of town for a few days at some revival,” Bill replied.

Mason put a hand on her arm. “Come on, Lailah. I’m not going to bite. It’s just a quick trip into town for some shirts and jeans. You don’t need anything fancy, now do you?”

“She’ll need a dress for church,” said Bill from the kitchen. “I doubt she’ll want to wear one of my wife’s old ones.”

Lailah jerked her arm away in the politest way possible while Bill was talking. “I’m not really a churchgoing kind of person, to be honest.” 

“If you’re going to stay here, you’ll attend services,” said Bill firmly, appearing in the doorway with a mug of coffee. “Everyone could stand to get closer to God.”

 _You can’t_ , she thought sourly. _She’s voluntarily in exile._

Bill made shooing motions towards the two of them. “Go, I’d like her back here before dark. It’s not proper for a single woman to be out that late.”

Mason took her arm again and guided her out the door to his waiting truck, helping her in the passenger side. She climbed up, feeling uncomfortable about his need to be touchy-feely with her.

“I don’t know you that well,” she said. “So I would really appreciate if you didn’t keep grabbing my arm. It makes me feel uncomfortable.”

“That’s rather ungrateful of you. I’m here helping you out and you’re going to get upset over a little friendly touch? Everyone around here hugs one another. Just get used to it,” he snapped, inserting the key in the ignition and reversing out of the driveway.

It was an awkward ride into town with Mason trying to touch his knee against hers there in the cab of the truck. Lailah eventually found herself pressed against her door trying to keep from panicking by the time they reached the small shopping centre in the nearby town. She was firmly helped from the truck and he kept a hand on her at all times as he walked her into the women’s clothing store. 

She tried to separate herself from him to peruse the selections. Mason grabbed her hand, holding it tight enough it was hurting her fingers.

“Let go. I barely know you.”

“We’re not looking at this stuff. They have some modest dresses in the back that’ll be good for you to wear. Those tight khakis you have on are not appropriate and your shirt shows too much cleavage. You’re going to be tempting men into impure thoughts.”

He let her hand go, but only because there were others present. “You’d better listen to me or I’ll leave you here. I’ve known Bill all my life, so I’ll just tell him you ran off again. A lot of his strays end up back on the streets doing drugs, just like they were when he found them. He’ll believe me.”

Lailah turned fearful green eyes towards him. Bill and his church were her protection from the demons. She couldn’t leave it. Being here was enough of a risk. She agreed to a few dresses – long skirts, high necklines and sleeves reaching the elbows then allowed Mason to buy them for her.

They didn’t drive directly back to the church, though. Mason took them out into the country where he parked the truck out behind an abandoned barn. Turning towards Lailah, he smiled at her.

“You are a very pretty thing and I’ve been looking for a wife,” he said. “I also don’t believe you’re some druggie. I believe you’ve had some kind of accident but God delivered you here because He knew I’ve been lonely without a woman in my life. I’ve been praying so hard.”

“I’m not the marrying type and I’m going to be on my way once I get back on my feet,” she replied, hand searching out the handle to open the door.

He saw what she was up, moving swifter than she thought possible in the cramped space. Before she could open the door, he was on her, slamming her head into the window then pulling her down horizontal in the seat. Feebly, thanks to the pain and vertigo from having the back of her head smashed into a hard surface, she fought back, kicking and slapping the best she could, but it was useless. Soon she was so dizzy she was battling to keep awake as darkness crept up on her. She didn’t completely lose consciousness, but her body would no longer react to her for a while.

Mason took advantage of her incapacitated state to start undoing the buttons on her blouse as she weakly attempted to remove his hands. 

“No . . .” she whispered.

“Remember, darling,” he said. “You brought this on yourself. I would have been polite if you didn’t act so rudely. I bought you clothes. You owe me.”

He reached in to fondle her breasts.

~*~*~

“Well, this is awkward,” commented Crowley as he and Aziraphale stared out the kitchen window that overlooked the back garden’s porch where a collection of demons and angels sat as far away from each other as possible. On one side sat Gabriel and Raphael, quietly discussing current events with each other. On the other were Ligur and a young looking demon whose hair was done in two long spikes that looked like uneven horns. 

“Who’s the demon with Ligur?” Aziraphale asked as he placed a teapot and cups on a tray. 

“Him? Oh, Disposable.”

Aziraphale raised an eyebrow. “There’s a demon named Disposable?”

Crowley shrugged as he poured milk in the pitcher then fished the matching sugar bowl out of a nearby cabinet. “Yeah. They saddled me with Crawly after finding out I had a naturally-occurring snake form. Not all of us got impressive sounding names like Asmodeus or Belphegor. But I think he likes to go by Eric.”

“Why?”

“Eric’s a lot nicer sounding than Disposable.”

“No, why is he named Disposable?” Aziraphale added some spoons and the box of teas to the tray.

“Oh, because he pisses Hastur off so much he ends up discorporated a lot. He’s not the brightest.”

“I can see how that would do it. Can you get the door for me, please?”

Crowley opened the door to allow Aziraphale to exit with the tray, following behind him with the pitcher and sugar bowl. They set the refreshments on the table, which nobody was sitting around.

“Tea, anyone?” Aziraphale asked brightly. 

“Please,” said Raphael.

Everyone else refused, politely or otherwise. Raphael moved up to the table where he could fix himself a cuppa. Aziraphale encouraged everyone else to as well. Crowley just poured a cup of hot water he wished into perfectly sweetened coffee.

“We’re all here for a common cause. I think we can all sit up at the table and at least be civil to each other while we’re searching for Lailah,” said Aziraphale somewhat sternly.

Grudgingly, three other supernatural beings brought their chairs back up to it, the two groups of mortal enemies seated on opposite sides of the table. Crowley and Aziraphale sat between them opposite each other. Crowley rolled his eyes behind his dark glasses, his husband knowing well the particular look on his face that indicated that even when he couldn’t see his eyes. 

He had decided not to let on his curse had been lifted. 

Gabriel had pulled out a map of the United States with a couple of them in the southern portion of the country circled. He smoothed it out on the table for all to see.

“I’ll start, I guess,” he said. “Now I talked to the two Powers who were supposed to go get her and perform the spell. They took her to a contact in one of these areas by the name of William Cooper. Goes by Bill and he’s the pastor of a church. The spell went wrong when the transported out to avoid Crowley and Aziraphale so she’s still an angel, still connected to the Host and should be easy to find.”

“Then why hasn’t she contacted anyone?” Raphael asked. “You’d think she’d try to reach these two.” He indicated Aziraphale and Crowley.

“They took her cell phone . . .”

“Mobile,” muttered Crowley under his breath.

“. . . and her memory’s been modified temporarily while they figured out how to clean up their mess,” continued Gabriel, who hadn’t heard Crowley. “They said she most likely doesn’t remember anything from before the first Apocalypse attempt. And she thinks she has to hide out in the church to avoid demons who caused all these issues with her memory and her powers when she was on a mission.”

He looked around at everyone else, then stared at his watch before standing up.

“Is there somewhere you need to be?” asked Crowley.

“I was just going to relay the information Raphael asked me to then be on my way.”

“Sit down,” growled Ligur. “You’re a big part of the reason she’s in this mess since you tried to start the second War. You can fucking stick around to help find her. And if you don’t, you can be sure when you’re back in power after your little probation, Hell is going to want to renegotiate the terms of our cooperation agreement.”

Gabriel, going uncharacteristically meek, sat down again.

Ligur tossed the scrap of paper containing the prophecy on the table. Raphael picked it up, read it and passed it on to Gabriel who did likewise, passing it to Aziraphale. Knowing what it contained, he passed it back to Ligur.

“So we get her back and soon or your kid goes nuclear, destroying us all,” muttered Raphael. “Great.”

“I thought you were her friend. Aren’t you concerned with her safety?” asked Crowley pointedly.

“Why don’t you just shut up, you snake?” snapped Raphael. “Of course I am.”

“Then act like it,” Crowley shot back. He picked up Rowan, who had been playing inside, but had come out on the porch to show him and Aziraphale something. 

“Excuse me! This _isn’t_ helping,” interrupted Aziraphale crossly. “We need to make a plan.”

Crowley stood up. “There’s a William Cooper who’s a pastor of some fundamentalist Christian church in Scammon, Kansas. What a pleasant name for a town, if you can call it that. It’s home to a grand total of around four hundred and fifty people.” He tossed his mobile to Aziraphale. “You guys look that over while I get Rowan some lunch. And stay out of my browser history, not that most of you would understand what kink is anyway.”

Aziraphale rubbed his face with his hand and sighed. 

Disposable pointed to the mobile. “Do you mind if I see that? I’ve been taking down notes here.” He indicated the tablet he held. 

“Sure, just be careful with it, please. If you break it in any way, he’ll find a million small annoying ways to make your life miserable, as you are probably aware.”

Disposable left it on the table as he copied information to his tablet. The others had gotten their mobiles out to look up William Cooper in Scammon, Kansas. Suddenly this seemed simple. They would have her back soon now.

“There’s one in this little town in Tennessee?” Gabriel announced uncertainly. “But it doesn’t say if he runs a church or not.”

“We split up, then,” Ligur said. “Who can feel her connection to the Host?”

Raphael and Aziraphale indicated they could. 

“Ok,” said Ligur. “Raphael and Gabriel, you two go together. Me, Aziraphale and Disposable’ll be the other group. One of us takes Tennessee, the other Kansas.”

“Why do I have to go with you?” asked Aziraphale.

“Do you really want to go with your former boss who tried to execute you?” replied Ligur. “I’m not going to do anything to you. For one, I see Lailah as a friend since we worked so closely together through the second attempt and I know if I do anything to you, that overpowered kid of yours would turn me into ash one day when she’s old enough. Crowley would make sure she did, too.”

“Fair enough,” said Aziraphale. “That leaves Crowley here with Rowan. He’s not going to be happy about that.”

“Someone has to watch her and you’re needed. He can cope.”

“Ok, I got all the notes down,” said Disposable. “Are we going to sit here arguing, or are we going to do this?”

The rest of them just glared at him.


	12. Small and Frightened

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rescue efforts are made as Lailah discovers her powers may be returning. Stuck at the cottage, Crowley tries to keep Rowan's fears at bay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content warning applies to the first section of this chapter. Everything remains implied, not described.

The truck pulled into the church’s driveway. Lailah nearly leapt from the cab before Mason painfully grabbed her arm, causing her to yelp. He yanked her close to him.

“Not a word of this to anyone. Do you really think they’d believe someone like you over me anyway? I’ve lived here my entire life, been involved with the church since I was a teenager looking for salvation. You’re just another charity case who’s probably on drugs or something,” he hissed at her. “You disgraced yourself wearing the clothes you did. Do you expect a man to respect you when you show off your breasts in tight blouses? Wear pants that look painted on? You need to pray for God’s forgiveness for leading me down the path of temptation. The only proper thing for us to do now is to court each other with the intention of marriage. You’re ruined now for any other man.”

“I have no intention of marrying anyone and you just secured your place Hell if you haven’t already,” she replied through tears while wrenching the door open and running inside, dresses forgotten. 

“I’m not hungry,” she said as she stalked past Bill to her room. “And I’ll be leaving tomorrow.”

“Where are you going to go? You don’t have transportation or money,” the older man said, confused, as he followed her down the hall. “You should just stay here until I can make other arrangements if you’re not happy.”

The door slammed behind her and she locked it. Wait . . . was there a lock before? She tried a small miracle – conjuring one of her coloured pencils to herself but nothing happened. Yet she swore there wasn’t a lock on the door yesterday.

Maybe it was baby steps and her power was returning slowly. She just wished she remembered anything from the past year or so. Or however long it been. She was flying blind when she should have just been returned to Heaven and now she would have to deal with everything that had happened in the truck with Mason.

Fighting back tears, she lay on the bed and tried not to think about what had occurred. Eventually she fell asleep for the first time since she was created. She slept soundly until morning when she wished she hadn’t awakened. 

Her body was sore from fighting Mason yesterday and she was more aware of what was between her legs than she’d ever been since she received a human body thousands of years ago. Pulling down her pants and underwear, she noticed a bit of blood in her panties. Not sure what to think or even do about it, she got dressed again and paced the room. There was a box of tissues on the desk. Grabbing a few, she stuffed them down there to soak up the blood before it seeped through to areas where it would be noticed. Then she tried again not to think about things.

Eventually Bill knocked on her door. “Morning, Lailah. I have breakfast almost done. See you out there in five minutes.”

“I’m not hungry.”

“You haven’t eaten a thing since you got here so you need to get yourself out here and have a good breakfast.”

She yanked open the door, staring him down with an angry glare. “I’m not hungry and I don’t want any breakfast!”

Bill stepped back in surprise, his fear showing on his face. Lailah’s eyes had turned a supernatural shade of green, the colour spreading to fill her entire sclera. The green glow reflected off his face as he stumbled away from the door.

“I’m sorry . . . I won’t ask again.”

He rushed out of the house, over to the church he was the pastor of. It was just a small building – mostly one large room with a tiny sacristy behind the altar and a choir loft in the back above the entrance, but it did the job for his tiny congregation. It was filled with old pews that had been there since the late 1800s when it was built. The carpet was a bit threadbare and originally a beige colour, but it had faded to something unidentifiable.

Bill sat down in the front row of seats and prayed harder than he had ever prayed before. The small silent church echoed with his panicked recitations. Gaining back some of his senses, he finally stood up, took a deep breath and walked up to the altar to light the candles. 

“What is she?” he asked the church at large, receiving no reply.

Sitting down in his chair behind the altar, he continued to pray for answers.

Back in the house, Lailah cried as she tried to figure out what she was going to do. The one entrance to Heaven (and Hell for that matter) that she could use without resorting to her depleted powers was that building in London, put there for the convenience of the only two permanently stationed field agents the Realms had. 

Maybe she could find another church to hide in. Maybe the demons had left, or chased after Eleth or the others instead of lying in wait for her. Maybe if she prayed, angels would come get her. The orders to say here were confusing. There was no reason for them because Heaven was protected from Hellish invasions.

She left the bedroom to pace the empty house thinking about what she needed if she was to leave. Clothes for sure. If she couldn’t use her powers to keep them clean and in good repair, she’d need spares. What else? Money, but she had no clue how to get that without resorting to stealing.

She couldn’t do this. She had no clue what to do or how to even implement a plan if she did. Breaking down, she sat on the couch feeling utter despair. She was stuck here until she could figure out how to navigate the human world when she lacked powers and resources.

Fleeing back to her room, she stayed there the rest of the morning, frantically sketching drawings of a little girl around two to three years old, a blond angel with the bluest of eyes and a redhead with serpentine features, like eyes, fangs and a tongue longer than the average human’s, that she drew as both male and female. The girl could be anyone. She had kept an eye on some of her charges long after she needed to. The angel was Heaven’s field agent and former guardian of Eden. The redhead was confusing. Something was telling her that was the Serpent, but she had never laid eyes on the Serpent, even in snake form. Like most angels, she had just heard the tales. Apparently he was Hell’s field agent, but she had never run into him.

She drew the snake – black with a red belly and yellow eyes. Everyone knew what the Serpent looked like in that form, but for some reason, it seemed more real to her. Like she had met him before. Looking at the quick sketch with its sparse use of colour, she wadded it up and threw it away. Nothing made sense anymore. 

The front door slammed and she could hear someone moving through the house. Lailah opened her door to peer out. “Bill?” she asked.

It was Mason. He approached her with a smile, getting through her door before her shaking panicked hands could slide the lock in place. His arms were around her, hugging her as if not only they were familiar with each other on an intimate but like he had not violated her less than twenty-four hours earlier.

“You forgot your dresses. We should get you into one. It’ll be so much more appropriate.”

“I’m fine and you will not touch me.” She tried to shut the door but couldn’t keep him out.

Screaming in fear and rage, as he angrily approached her telling her she needed to listen to him now, she did her best to fight him off. But without her angelic powers, he was too strong and she found herself prone on the bed with him on top of her. He slapped her a couple of times for scratching and attempting to bite him. Then he really began to hurt her.

~*~*~

“I shouldn’t have to stay here,” snapped Crowley as he sat at the kitchen table with Rowan, both of them colouring.

“Look, Daddy,” she held up the page she coloured in a typical messy three-year-old style. It was of a bird sitting on a branch singing.

“Very nice. I like how you made the bird red and blue,” he replied. 

“Papa?”

“I love it, Rowan. We’ll have to hang it on the corkboard.”

She smiled and went back to scribbling, choosing a picture of a smiling snail this time.

“Well?” asked Crowley pointedly, looking a bit silly twirling a red crayon between his fingers.

“As angels, Lailah and I have a connection. I can pick up on her. Unfortunately, you can’t, so it defaults to you to stay with Rowan,” Aziraphale replied. “You can’t bring a three-year-old on a search that might be dangerous.”

Crowley curled up his lip in an angry sneer.

“Stop it,” scolded Aziraphale. “Your part is just as important. We need to keep things positive for Rowan. That’s up to you while I’m gone.” He came over to kiss Crowley, knowing a bit of spoiling would help improve his mood. “You’re very good with her, you know. You’ll be fine here. We can set up the mental link again so I can stay in contact with you.”

He touched Crowley’s temple initiating the link again. Crowley sighed and leaned against him, stroking his arm.

_I want to go._

_I know, my dear. We won’t be long. She’s in one of two places._

_If Ligur does anything to you, holy water will be the least of his worries._

Aziraphale laughed in his head. _He oddly enough formed a friendship with Lailah. He’s doing this for her, not as some attempt to hurt us._

“Be careful,” Crowley whispered, saying it out loud. “Rowan, Papa has to leave for a bit, so tell him goodbye.”

Rowan climbed out of her chair to hug Aziraphale fiercely. “Don’t go. Lailah went. She didn’t come back.”

He knelt down to talk to her. “I’m going to find Lailah and bring her home. I love you and we’ll be back soon, ok?”

“Ok.” She giggled as he kissed her on the forehead. 

“You be good, ok?”

“Daddy says I’m half good.”

That earned Crowley a Look. 

He shrugged. “Go. I know they’re waiting for you. Just come back in one piece or I’ll be very put out.” And Crowley was alone with Rowan. She looked up at him with those blue-gold eyes, a troubled expression on her face. 

“Why the men take Lailah?” she asked.

“I don’t know,” said Crowley. “But don’t worry. We will get her back.”

“Promise?” asked one scared three-year-old who would eventually develop the power to destroy worlds. 

“I promise, little one.” He held out his hand. “C’mon. Let’s go swing.”

She took it and he led her outside to the swing he installed in a tree in the back garden. It was just what he expected a swing to be – a wooden board suspended between two sturdy ropes. But being this was Crowley, and for his and Aziraphale’s daughter, the seat was made up of rare snake wood with its distinctive snakeskin-like pattern while the rope was the purest of whites with threads of gold running through it. Because he wanted it to, the swing would always look perfect, never suffering from the ravages of the elements.

He pushed her higher and higher, listening to her laugh as she kicked her feet up to touch the sky. The swing brought her back his direction, her face looking down at the ground now and then he was pushing her again towards the sky hoping she’d stay happy and her mind off of what she saw earlier when angels invaded her home, shut her in a dark place and took a member of her family, causing her to transport in fear to the one place where she felt save now that her other home no longer was.

Last night had been bad. She had cried for Lailah and had had to sleep nestled between Aziraphale and Crowley. Today had gone better with her seeming to forget what happened except just now when Aziraphale left, but Crowley didn’t buy it wasn’t gone from her mind. She was three. Her mind was a flighty place that thoughts fluttered through at an astounding rate to be forgotten then remembered again, usually at an inconvenient moment.

“I’m flying!”

“Yes, you are,” Crowley replied suddenly feeling anxious for the day when she could fly. Despite his love for the Bentley, there was still nothing like the feeling of the air rushing past you as you flew through the sky under the power of your own wings.

Eventually she had had enough which meant Crowley had to come out in front of the swing to catch her as she recklessly launched herself in the air, confident that he would always catch her. She was starting to get big for such a thing; he found himself stumbling, his wings unfurling as he corrected his balance to keep from falling on his back.

She reached out to pet the soft black feathers. “I’m gonna fly, too, someday when I’m big.”

“Yes, you will. But right now the wind would blow you away.” He held her in the air the best he could, turning in circles until she laughed. “C’mon. I want to go check on the apple trees. Want to climb one?”

Rowan was agreeable to that. Off she ran to the orchard while Crowley followed behind, hoping her good mood held. It did for a short span of time before Rowan’s mind turned back to Lailah. She straddled a low branch sobbing as Crowley came running to check on her. Deftly climbing up to join her, he perched on the same branch, his back against the tree’s trunk. She crawled up close to him, tears running down her cheeks then with a pop turned into a smallish snake in shades of blue with a grey belly. Her eyes were as golden yellow as his.

“What’s wrong? Are you scared?”

“Yes. I was stuck. Wanted out.”

“You just would have made them angry,” Crowley replied gently. “It was good you stayed out of the way. Sometimes that’s a good thing to do.”

“Snakes bite.” Rowan showed him her sharp teeth.

“Yes, but we don’t bite people. Sometimes people try to hurt you back when you bite them.” As much as he wanted to tell her to bite the hell out of anyone who tried to harm her, it wasn’t good advice to give a small child.

“See your fangs?” she asked.

Crowley’s eye teeth were more pointed than was usual for a human. They preferred being longer if he forgot himself, growing into bona fide fangs that went well with his snake-like eyes and preternaturally long tongue. He had trained that long ago not to bifurcate, but the teeth were not as cooperative.

“Not now. You need to be a little girl again, ok? It’s hard to play with a snake. Don’t you want to keep playing out here? It’s going to get dark soon and we’ll have to go in.”

“I want Papa and Lailah,” she said as she became human-shaped again.

Crowley slid out of the tree then held his hands out to Rowan. She climbed into his arms and allowed him to carry her to her sandbox. Putting her down, he sat down on the edge of it, coaxing her to come sit and play with him.

“Want to build something?” he asked, offering her a shovel.

“No,” Rowan replied.

“Ok, then let’s go inside. We can read or play on the tablet or something,” he said, taking her hand.

He got her settled on the couch with the tablet he had bought for her to play games on now and again. Aziraphale hadn’t approved, so it rarely came out, being an occasional treat when she had been good or when they really needed to keep her calm. Crowley figured this qualified. The more her mind kept positive, the better.

 _How’s it coming?_ he asked Aziraphale.

_We’re looking for the church._

_Hope it’s not too long, then._

He sat down with his own mobile, as determined to keep his own mind from negative thoughts as he was Rowan’s. He couldn’t stand just sitting here waiting.

~*~*~

It was about nine in the morning when Raphael and Gabriel transported to the edge of the tiny town in whatever state it was they were assigned and started investigating. Looking around with disgust, Gabriel crossed his arms and never wished more than now that he could drive.

“Well, come on,” said Raphael. “Let’s conjure up a car so we can start looking around.”

“I don’t’ think he’s here,” replied Gabriel, who made a hand gesture that produced a rather nice luxury model of American car. “But you got the address there. Get in.”

He took the driver’s seat, leaving Raphael the passenger side. With another miracle, the car drove itself off, Gabriel keeping his hands on the wheel for appearance’s sake. Raphael pulled up the information on his phone then a moment later the car knew where to drive to. It didn’t take long before they were sitting at the curb in front of a small grey house that had seen better days. Staring at it, Raphael shrugged.

“It’s not a church. If it’s him, he doesn’t live on the church’s property. Let’s go.”

They walked up the sidewalk to the front door, the concrete making it up was cracked and buckled. Gabriel was certainly not happy to be here. With a flourish he produced a briefcase, a nice grey one that matched his suit.

“Let me do the talking.”

“Why? You’re just here for brownie points. Hoping to shave some time off your probation. I’m not stupid.”

“That may be true, but what’s that got to do with me doing the talking? I have a plan, so just shut up and go along with it.”

“All right. Shutting up.” Raphael stepped back. “You do the honours, then.”

Distaste evident, Gabriel rang the doorbell. They waited a few minutes before a very elderly lady answered it. She looked at them suspiciously through the screen door before she said anything. Gabriel greeted her with a smile.

“Yes? What can I do for you?”

“Hi. We’re with the law firm of Smith and Johnson. Is there a William Cooper here?” Gabriel asked in his best business voice.

“No, I’m afraid not,” she replied. “He was my husband and he passed away five years ago this March.”

“Oh,” Gabriel paused his mind casting about for the right phrase to say to a human who had lost a loved one.

“Our deepest condolences,” said Raphael, glaring at the idiot he got saddled with for this. “We’re looking for one William Cooper who has come into an inheritance. Was your husband the pastor of a church?”

The woman looked from one to the other, confused. “No. He owned the hardware store in town. Never was a big believer in church. You sure you got the right Will Cooper?”

Gabriel, having recovered now, gave her a sunny smile. “I don’t think we do. I’m sorry to have bothered you, ma’am. Have a nice day.”

They walked back to the car. Getting in, Gabriel had it drive them back to where they entered town, then parked it. He looked at the other Archangel.

“It’s up to the other three. I’ve done my part,” he said. “Get rid of the car when you’re done. I’m heading back Upstairs.”

With a snap of his fingers, he had disappeared, much to Raphael’s annoyance. Fishing out his phone again, he dialed Crowley’s number.

“What?” the demon said when he picked up.

“It’s Raph. The William Cooper we hunted down died five years ago. I assume Aziraphale and the others have the right one. There’s some potential plague viruses I need to check up on while I’m here on Earth. Keep me informed and let me know when you have her or need more help.”

“Viruses huh?” said Crowley. “So are you going to eradicate them or start spreading them in some perverted attempt to show humanity God is good?”

“You’re not funny, Crowley. Just call me when you have news.”

“If I feel like it.” And the demon hung up on him.

“I can’t wait until you’re out of my life forever,” Raphael muttered at the phone. Pocketing it, he instructed the car to disappear and reappear in near some small town in an underdeveloped African nation.

These types of deadly viruses always seemed to start in the countries that had little and were ignored by “haves” of the global community. Hopefully this time he could keep it from spreading. Getting out of the vehicle, he started his hunt for it so he could destroy the potentially fatal illness.

Lailah’s fear hit him through their connection like a train. 

“Shit!” he said before disappearing, leaving the car there.

~*~*~

Ligur sniffed as they popped into a cornfield across the street from the country church William Cooper ran. Disposable was taking pictures of it and the surroundings with his tablet’s camera, Ligur glaring at him.

“Put that away.” He punched the junior demon in the arm. 

Aziraphale pretended not to notice.

“I’m documenting.”

“Just stop it,” growled Ligur. “I needed you to take a few notes, not document the fuck out of everything.”

“I’m heading up and I’m sure you two would rather hang back. I don’t know what exactly is consecrated here,” interrupted Aziraphale. “Go ahead and argue among yourselves when I’m gone.”

He started off, walking hastily across the road to the driveway in front of the house because suddenly fear was wafting off his connection with Lailah. A pop beside him caused him to startle. He turned to find Raphael there.

“You felt it, too?” Aziraphale asked. 

“Yes.”

“Let’s go.”

They were running for the house, Raphael greatly outstripping Aziraphale as they ran.


	13. Power and Rage

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _She felt it. Felt all her rage at this man explode at once, causing her to glow with divine light. The entire room filled with it, white, blinding. Mason covered his eyes with an arm. Cowering slightly, he stepped back from her._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dear God, I'm climbing the walls here. I've never spent so much time at home. Bored? Go read [Fall of a Serpent](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23184994). Because I wrote it and that means it's awesome. 😂 Just a little self-promoting humour there . . . really my ego isn't that big. I hope. 
> 
> I hope everyone is doing well in this strange times. Love you all! -The Bentley

Angels had to make an effort if they wanted to not be genderless or sexless. The only problem with that was bodies came with all the parts because one was on Earth to blend in, not cause issues if one had to leave a body behind. The chances were slim, but anyone could end up in a morgue and the Barbie doll look below the waist would not go unnoticed. 

Unfortunately, such a body left Lailah vulnerable in the wrong situation and that wrong situation was happening to her presently. She lay on the bed bruised and battered, the man who just violated her spooning up against her unclothed back as if what they had done – what he had done to her – had been consensual and non-violent. Tears fell upon her pillow as she tried to remain as still as possible. She would not let him know she was crying if she could help it.

“We would be good together if you would just behave,” Mason said in her ear. “Let’s get you cleaned up and in something appropriate for a woman of the faith before Bill comes back. He was at the church praying when he got a call a member of the flock needed him.”

“Just leave me alone,” she whispered. 

He yanked her to her feet without listening to her and she could feel fluid leaking out on to her inner thighs. The sensation disgusted her causing a shudder to run through her body. He had moved off to her right side. She turned on him, striking him with all the force she could.

“Leave me alone!” she screamed as she beat on him with her fists. 

He grabbed her, slamming her against the desk, the art supplies scattering.

“You will not hit me,” he said with barely contained rage.

“ _You_ will not touch me again!” she snarled in reply, her anger bringing on the impossible. 

She felt it. Felt all her rage at this man explode at once, causing her to glow with divine light. The entire room filled with it, white, blinding. Mason covered his eyes with an arm. Cowering slightly, he stepped back from her.

“Succubus!” he breathed. “You caused me to lust after you. Oh, God above, help your humble servant overcome this possession by demonic forces.” He fell to his knees to pray, hands folded, lips muttering words that would not save him.

“You’re not going to get the reward you want,” she snarled and with the power brought back by her rage, she made sure he’d never forget her.

~*~*~

Raphael found himself thrown back into the front lawn of the house, unable to approach the door at all. Bright white light that could only be of a divine nature streamed out of every window. Picking himself up, he halted Aziraphale who was about to make the same mistake he did. The Principality came to a clumsy stop.

“She’s somehow got power back. A shitload of it, in fact. And she’s warded the place up nice and tight,” he said. “Lord, I could go for a cigarette. Do you have one?”

“No. Smoking never did seem right. I gave it up in the fifties not long after I started it,” said Aziraphale primly. “And don’t we have other more important things to worry about? Like how to get her to come to her senses? The rage I’m feeling off of her is almost uncontrollable.”

Raphael sighed and miracled up a pack of cigarettes and a lighter, hoping he wouldn’t get dinged for the frivolous miracles. Aziraphale gave him a dirty look.

“Really? At a time like this? And when you’re the Archangel of Healing?”

“It’s not like it’s going to kill me.” Raphael blew out smoke, his face looking more relaxed. 

“So, you’re just going to smoke,” said Aziraphale disapprovingly. 

“It’ll help me think about what to do next. I’m sorry, but I’m at a loss here. We can’t break that ward, you know that.” The Archangel felt helpless and didn’t like it.

Aziraphale rolled his eyes before heading as close to the edge of the warding spell as he could. “Lailah?” he called. “Are you in there? Can you please take down the ward? It’s me, Aziraphale, can we talk? Do you remember me?” The ward fell apart. Cautiously, Aziraphale approached the house. “Lailah?”

“I’ll stay here and guard. I don’t think that’s the house’s owner in there with her.”

Aziraphale rolled his eyes again then just got back to his task. He opened the door and slowly entered into the house not knowing what to expect, hearing screams for mercy that he knew would not be heeded. Running to the bedroom where they were coming from, he found Lailah glowing with divine light, her true form visible to a man cowering in the corner before her. It was him who was screaming in response to viewing a power mortals were never meant to see. She was deliberately burning herself along with all his sins against her permanently into his mind.

“Lailah! Lailah! Please! Stop!” He approached her, wanting so badly to just hug her but knowing very well she didn’t remember he was a friend right now. 

She looked at him through eyes gone completely iridescent green, recognizing him as a fellow angel. Her head cocked to one side in confusion. “Principality Aziraphale?”

“Yes. I am him. Please, release the mortal. There are better ways of dealing with this.”

“Yes,” she said after some thought. “Yes, there are.”

Suddenly she was a streak of light that raced through the house, out the front door and off to parts unknown. Raphael was nearly knocked over by her passing. Recovering quickly, he took off after her.

“I’m on it,” he yelled out, hoping Aziraphale could hear him before he was out of earshot.

Aziraphale didn’t bother trying to follow her. At the supernatural speeds she was going he would never catch up. It would be best to stay here and see if he could figure out where she might have taken off to. Stepping softly up to the man who was muttering something to himself over and over, Aziraphale stooped to hear the words he was repeating. He paled upon hearing them. 

“Oh, my God . . .” the angel breathed.

“What’s he saying?” asked a voice behind him. 

Aziraphale turned to find Ligur there. Furrowing his brow he asked. “The house isn’t consecrated?”

“No, but I’m not setting foot in that church,” he replied. “Not that Lailah is in there. Raphael’s chasing after her. What is he saying?”

“That he violated an angel.” Aziraphale turned away from the man in disgust, unable to even look upon him anymore. He felt sick. “She’s going to be hurt, confused and scared. I doubt Raphael’s going to be able to track her down. I’m going to see if she left some clues as to where she might go. I don’t know if she’ll return to Heaven given the story they fed her.”

Ligur’s eyes flared red. “And what about _him_?”

Aziraphale’s face was hard with anger. “I believe she damaged him pretty well, but I refuse to heal anything she did. Nor is he my concern. I don’t work for Heaven any longer.” Aziraphale moved to the desk where he found the pictures Lailah drew. He would not lift a finger to help anyone who did such evil acts to another while using religion to justify it.

“Then he’s mine. There is no capacity in him for redemption. I can feel that.” Ligur touched the man’s chest, sending his soul racing down to his eternal reward as Aziraphale watched dispassionately. Heaven and Hell both only took what was rightfully theirs. If Ligur could take him, then his soul could not be saved. 

Turning back to the task at hand, Aziraphale tried to keep his emotions in check. To get angry now would do no good. He picked up the drawings, flipping through them – him, Rowan, Crowley. Biting his lip to keep a sob from escaping he searched the area more thoroughly, finding the crumpled up picture of Crowley in snake form in the wastepaper basket. 

“If Disposable wants to document something, he can document these.” He handed them to Ligur who flipped through them. “She’s remembering bits and pieces. I think that painting there jogged her memory a bit.” He indicated the print of the Garden of Eden on the wall.

Ligur squinted at it. “Cute picture of Crowley. They got you all wrong, though.”

Aziraphale ignored him, taking back the drawings. “Let’s go. And do something with that body. I don’t want suspicion on Lailah because he was found in her bedroom.”

Ligur gave a lazy wave, transferring the body the living room where he made it look like Mason had a heart attack that killed him where he collapsed. They left the house behind, meeting back up with Raphael and Disposable out across the street. Raphael had tried to track Lailah, but had lost her and had failed to pick up any further trace.

Disposable snapped photos of the portraits. Ligur smoked a cigarette. Aziraphale filled in Raphael.

“Let’s each take a different direction. That might be the best use of our time since she’s in the wind,” suggested Raphael. “Call each other’s phones if we find anything.”

“I’m not giving you my mobile number,” said Ligur. 

“Fine! We’ll search for two hours then transport back here. Does that work for you?” snapped the Archangel. “Report, head back to where you left off and keep searching.”

“This is stupid,” said Disposable. “Why can’t we summon her?”

“She’s not a demon,” said Raphael shortly. 

“No, he may have something. When I was discorporated right before the failed Apocalypse, I was able to posses someone,” replied Aziraphale. “I don’t see why we _couldn’t_ summon an angel.”

“That’s insane.” Raphael walked away.

“Do you have some chalk?” Aziraphale asked the demons as if it were something they routinely carried around. “I know from my studies what runes we will need.”

Fifteen minutes later the three of them had chalked a circle on the linoleum in the kitchen while Raphael stood guard outside. Aziraphale looked over it critically, studying a page in a book he had conjured from his bookshop. Making a change here and there, he finally nodded, satisfied.

“We ready?” asked Ligur.

“Yes.”

Aziraphale let him to the honours; it wasn’t often that a demon got to do the summoning instead of being summoned. Ligur said the verbal part of the spell, substituting some words so they hopefully got Lailah in the circle rather than a demon or another angel. Disposable stepped back, unsure of this entire process after the arguments Ligur had had with Aziraphale over wording.

The circle shone with a bright bluish-white light that flared briefly before dying away to reveal Lailah, clothed in a dress with her wings out. She was lying with her head in her hands. Ligur banished the circle entirely, waiting a moment before bending down to examine her. 

“She’s not going to know you,” warned Aziraphale. “Remember they hid those memories, Gabriel said?”

Lailah looked up, scrambling backwards, her hands in front of her preparing a spell. “Get back, demon! Don’t think I won’t smite you! I know you’re after me.”

“Lailah, it’s me. Ligur. We worked together, remember?”

“I wouldn’t work with demons. I’m loyal to Heaven.” She pulled her fingers down in a snap, disappearing from where she lay entirely. 

“Lailah! No!” Aziraphale cried out, too late to stop her. 

“Great,” said Ligur. “Now what?”

“I imagine she transported back to Heaven,” sighed Aziraphale. “It’s up to Raphael now. I’m exiled.”

“Then let me know what’s going on. There’s no point in us hanging out here,” replied Ligur. “C’mon. Let’s head back Downstairs.” 

The junior demon headed over to stand next to Ligur. Suddenly they sank into the ground, the kitchen floor repairing itself after they disappeared. Alone, Aziraphale sent his spell book back to the bookshop before going back outside behind the house where Raphael waiting in the garden, smoking his fourth cigarette. He turned as the Principality approached. 

“What happened?”

“We got her, she panicked upon seeing the demons and then disappeared. I’m fairly certain she went back to Heaven, so you’re going to have to fetch her. I don’t think that’s the best place for her. I suggest you bring her back to the cottage.”

“All right,” replied Raphael. “I’ll find her. She only goes to so many places up there.”

He disappeared a mere moment before a car pulled in the driveway and Aziraphale found himself greeted by Bill who was wondering why he was standing in his yard. The angel looked at him coolly.

“Do you live here?” he asked Bill.

“Why, yes.”

“Who is the young light-haired man? Does he live here, too?”

Bill looked confused for a moment. “Oh, Mason Jarvis. No, he’s my deacon. Is there some kind of problem here, sir?” asked Bill. “You’re obviously not from these parts. I know all the people of this town at least by looks and that accent is a dead giveaway.”

“I am the Principality Aziraphale, formerly of Heaven, currently Earth’s guardian angel. You have a few things to answer for. Your trust in Mason Jarvis being one of them.”

An annoyed look on his face, Bill attempted to chastise him, “Now don’t you start with such shenanigans. Did the boys in town hire you to mess with me? They like playing their pranks.”

Aziraphale stopped time, unfurling his wings and allowing the angelic light he was filled with out to surround his entire body like a corona. His smile was humourless and his usually friendly sky blue eyes cold. Bill gasped, falling to his knees. 

“Does this look like I am playing pranks? How long have you known about your deacon’s predatory ways? How many women in your parish have been hurt by him? I saw into his soul before it was taken by a demon and what I saw there disturbed me,” Aziraphale said angrily. “I see into yours, too. You _knew_ what was going on and you _let_ it. You blamed his victims, telling them they tempted him and should pray for forgiveness. Well, he made a big mistake this time. He violated an angel. He sexually forced himself on a holy being. And while his mortal victims are no less important than her, you, as a pastor, should find it rather horrifying that he would force himself on a messenger of God. Tell your congregation what you did, then resign because you are unfit to lead. I _will_ be back to make sure this happens. Do you understand that?”

Bill nodded fearfully. 

“Oh,” added Aziraphale. “It’s time to wake up to the twenty-first century, lose the views that women are somehow inferior in the eyes of God and start treating them like people. She will be most displeased by your behaviour.”

Bill looked shocked at the mention of God being a woman.

Aziraphale continued. “Yes, _She_. God presents female. I suggest you clean up your act and rethink these uncivilized American Christian fundamentalist values or you’re not going to like Heaven very much. It really doesn’t have much to offer your garden-variety misogynist.” He paused before continuing. “One more thing . . . I just might bring my husband with me when I return to check up on things. He’s a demon and less forgiving than I. We don’t technically have gender and sometimes he likes to present female, but we certainly aren’t heterosexual. I’d start being nice to those who aren’t straight while you’re at it. And get rid of the racist views. They’re not flattering at all. What is wrong with you people? Honestly!”

He snapped his fingers, restarting time and returning himself to the cottage to wait for Raphael’s word. He tried not to fume as he walked up the front path. Rowan needed him to be positive right now. 

~*~*~

Even the guards kept their distance from the enraged angel rampaging through Heaven, wings out, power on display. Those out on Heaven’s streets got quickly out of her way and a couple had the mind to contact Raphael since she was part of his department. Nobody warned Eleth that she was coming for him when she asked a couple of angels here and there where he was. Few who knew him actually liked him. 

“Where is he?” she demanded at the reception desk in his part of the Office of Requisitions, sweeping past the desk when the angel there couldn’t give her an answer beyond that he was in the building somewhere.

Through the halls she stormed, attracting the attention of angels who poked their heads of their offices to see what was going on. Some stood out on the hallway itself to watch her search offices until she found Eleth’s, all but knocking down his door when she opened it to enter.

“You bastard! You _left_ me down there to get attacked by a human! Without my powers to even defend myself when you could have easily helped me get back to Heaven!”

“Lailah,” he stuttered as he put as much distance and furniture between the two of them as possible. “Why did you leave your safe place? How did you get your powers back?”

“I think my anger brought them back. There’s something about rage that refills them rather quickly, especially when you’re in a dangerous situation.” She cornered him, pinning him between a shelf and the wall. “I’m amazed to find you in Heaven back at your job when you said you had to go into hiding as well.”

Her hand flew out, grabbing him around the neck, slamming him into the wall. Eleth whimpered, his hands raised to show he wasn’t going to do anything to her.

“I’m sorry! I was just doing as I was told!”

“Sure you were. Because it’s standard fucking procedure to leave one of your own out in the field wounded and helpless, isn’t it? Isn’t it?” She bounced his head off the wall again. He cried out in pain, begging her to let him go, but she was relentless. Going nose to nose with him, she showed him just how angry she was. “Have fun explaining why you lost your body, you bastard.”

Gathering up all the power she could, she smote him. Watching the smoke clear, she imagined his spirit traveling over to the Department of Corporations, like happened whenever an angel was discorporated, to file a report on how the body became a smoking pile of ash because he put another angel at risk. That was used to determine when they received a new one. Lose it foolishly and it was a long wait. Eleth would be stuck in Heaven a long time and Lailah knew he enjoyed his trips to Earth. Single malt whisky was his vice therefore if he was deemed to have lost his body in an unacceptable manner, it would be a long while before he tasted it again.

Walking to the door, she called, “If there are any eavesdroppers out there who want to pass on some gossip to Corporations, feel free to do so. I won’t stand in your way. Let them know he put me in danger while powerless and I was just exacting revenge.”

She left, determined to go to London to find Aziraphale. His face and that of the redheaded demon were still on her mind. She wanted answers, hoping he would have them. She didn’t know Raphael was following her as she flew back to Heaven’s entrance to head down to Earth again. He accosted her as she reached the escalators, putting a hand on her shoulder.

“Lailah? Are you ok?” he asked, not letting on he knew exactly what was going on with her. Now was not the time to frighten her or cause suspicion to rise. “You look like you’ve been through a lot. Can I just check you out really quickly? Please? I heard you were stuck on Earth.”

He took her hand before she could reply to lead her to the Healing Centre. She complied without complaint, which he was glad of. He hadn’t lost a body yet and he wouldn’t look forward to her smiting him like she did Eleth. After a couple of steps, he let go of her hand and they walked together.

“What happened?” he asked although he was aware of the basics of the situation. 

She gave him a haunted look. “I think I’d rather talk about that in private.”

They walked back to the Healing Centre in silence. Sitting in an exam room, she told him everything, breaking down in tears several times during her retelling. Raphael just listened, becoming more and more disturbed with each passing revelation from her. Finally he just held her while she cried it out, eventually getting her some tissues and telling her he’d look after her wounds.

“You need some mind healing, too, to take the edge off that trauma. It’s going to take a few sessions before it’s gone, though,” he combed a hand through his hair. “I don’t think we’ve had an angel go through such a thing before. I honestly don’t know how long it’s going to take you to heal completely mentally.”

She nodded.

“And Lailah?” he said softly. “Eleth lied to you. There was no mission and you were never attacked by some demon resulting in a loss of power or memories. He and a couple of Powers were the ones who blocked off a bunch of your memories. The Apocalypse almost happened four and a half years ago, in fact. Do you remember that?”

She shook her head in shock, the tissues she held suddenly being gripped tighter.

“Two stopped it. You’ve heard of Aziraphale, haven’t you?”

“Yes, of course. I’ve seen him up here to give reports once or twice. He’s our field agent.”

“The other one was Crowley, Hell’s field agent.”

She stared at him with an odd expression in her green eyes. “What does Crowley look like?”

Raphael raised an eyebrow. He hadn’t stuck around to get any detailed explanations from Aziraphale but he remembered Aziraphale was holding drawings of people and he knew Lailah enjoyed making art. Memory blocks done sloppily meant small portions slipped through to the consciousness, leaving the subject with faint traces of memories of the blocked time period. She could have been drawing pictures of Aziraphale or Crowley. Or both. It was likely. He couldn’t imagine Aziraphale stopping to pick up random art when there were more urgent things to worry about.

“Usually a tall, skinny guy with red hair that wears sunglasses all the time. His eyes look like a snake’s. Although he’s never really settled on a gender. Sometimes he’ll show up female, but still the same basic look – tall, skinny, same hair colour and eyes,” replied Raphael. “Why do you ask?”

“I’ve never seen Crowley but I know their face,” she replied. “I remember a male form and a female one that looked pregnant and they were the Serpent, weren’t they?” She gave him such a piercing look, like she wanted to just reach into his head and grab the answers from it. This had obviously been bothering her for days.

Raphael nodded, opening his mouth to respond further but she interrupted him.

“Why the memories of him . . . her pregnant?”

“Because he was. He’s male-presenting now. And no, I’m not explaining that whole mess. Let’s just get you physically healed then work on that block. You’ll know the whole story after that.”

Preparing his powers, he got to work, starting with the physical hurts and the block then moved on to do the first round of mind healing. He silently apologized to her as he worked on some of the trauma. Eleth and his accomplices were going to pay for this. Raphael decided he would make sure of that.

He didn’t need to make that promise. Their fates were already sealed.


	14. Home and Family

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lailah returns home and she needs her family's support and love more than ever.

The scream of a young child in distress instantly woke both Crowley and Aziraphale, tapping into parental instincts that had them both out of bed and in Rowan’s room before she had time to draw breath for another loud cry. Aziraphale was on her bed, drawing her into his lap while Crowley stood beside it, wishing up a small, soft light to see by. 

“Bad men took Lailah!”

“Shhh, I know, my darling,” soothed Aziraphale, stroking her head full of loose curls. “We’re going to get her back. A friend is looking for her.”

“Soon?”

“Yes,” said Aziraphale. “Soon.” He cast a worried look at Crowley. “I’ll go out looking for her tomorrow, all right?”

“Ok.” But Rowan didn’t sound convinced at all. The tears kept coming and she shook as if frightened.

 _Raphael had better give us some news soon_ , said Crowley through the mental link they decided to maintain. It was proving rather useful. 

_I’ll talk to him tomorrow. I have his mobile number._

“Did you have a bad dream, kiddo?” Crowley asked as he budged his way on to the bed as well, tired of standing there like an idiot.

Rowan nodded.

“It’s ok. Bad dreams happen. We’re here now.” He brushed some loose hair out of her face and wiped away tears.

“I want Lailah now.”

“I know, my darling. I know,” soothed Aziraphale.

They sat there with her as she cried, holding and comforting her to the best of their abilities. Rowan clung to Aziraphale like she never wanted to let go and when Crowley got up to get her a glass of water, she burst into fresh tears thinking he wasn’t going to come back. He sat back down, spending the next hour cuddling her with Aziraphale, the night light he created bobbing in the air above them. Finally she dropped back off to sleep, prompting them to try to go back to their own bed.

Small arms reached out the moment they stood up. “Papa! Daddy!”

“We’re right here, Rowan,” said Crowley. Looking at Aziraphale with a sigh, he picked her up. “Let’s go.” He took her back to their room, Aziraphale in tow. Tucking her securely between them, he asked. “How’s that? Now you can sleep and we’re not stuck in a tiny bed.”

“I like your bed,” she said. “It’s so big.”

“Now you go back to sleep,” said Aziraphale, kissing her forehead before reaching over to give Crowley one, too. “We’ll be here with you all night.”

Morning came with its own set of difficulties. Rowan had taken to having cereal every morning, much to Crowley’s annoyance since he loved cooking, and while the last couple of days had gone smoothly, suddenly today was different. The smallest deviation from her breakfast routine meant a round of tears he and Aziraphale had to soothe before they could move on. 

“Lailah pours the milk!” she insisted when Aziraphale attempted to.

“Oh, my darling . . .” he said, his eyes showing his sorrow. “Lailah’s not here. Can I pour it before I go look for her again?”

“I don’t want that! Lailah pours the milk!” With a pop she was once again a snake and had taken off to hide under the couch in the sitting room.

“Why did she inherit that form?” Aziraphale sighed.

“Sorry,” said Crowley. “Let her be. I’ll keep an eye on her. At least she didn’t go under the fridge this time.”

“Thank you, my dear. I’ll go check in with Raphael.” He headed to the corner of the kitchen where there was a landline, there because it was likely that Aziraphale would only take to a mobile the moment they were being replaced by the next step in technology. 

Crowley, in the meantime, switched his form as much as he hated leaving his human shape, making sure he was small enough to fit under the couch. Slithering through the crack between the couch and the floor, he sought out the small blue and grey snake curled up in the back corner. He gently touched her with his tail to let her know he was there.

“Hi, Rowan. What’s up?”

She didn’t respond beyond looking at him, so he just coiled up next to her and waited until she was ready. 

In the kitchen Aziraphale had made a call to Raphael who was filling him in. 

“We found her. I have her at the Healing Centre now taking care of a few things, like that memory block and some physical injuries,” said Raphael. “I’ll tell you what happened up here and I think you need to tell me what you know about what happened down there when you found her.”

“You’re certainly not going to like what I’m going to say,” said Aziraphale before he started explaining.

~*~*~

Ligur met with Beelzebub in their office.

“Any news?” the Prince asked.

“Those bastards modified her memory before they kidnapped her. And the humans were not exactly nice, either. We had her, but she slipped away from us because she didn’t remember me,” Ligur replied. “But I gained us a soul out of it. Anyone who lays hands on an angel deserves extra torture for the next few millennia. The boys should have fun with that.”

“I disagree with your reasoning, but any excuse to up the punishments,” said Beelzebub. “What about the child?”

“I don’t know. She’s with Crowley at that cottage of theirs and it’s not like he’s going to answer any questions about her.” Ligur shrugged. 

“Keep an eye on things because apparently we have to keep that kid’s childhood memories happy or we’re all dead.”

Ligur nodded and left. He’d make a visit to the cottage in the next day or so to check in on their progress.

~*~*~

Aziraphale was reading to Rowan now that she had been coaxed out from under the couch and back into human form. Crowley was sitting nearby in an armchair with his laptop which he used to keep notes on the gardens and make new landscaping plans. A tablet screen just wasn’t big enough for that, he claimed. Right now he had some ideas on how to update the rose garden out by the back porch. 

Suddenly he paled before putting the laptop on the coffee table, walking quickly out of the room. He went into the kitchen where he leaned on the doorway into the pantry, eyes closed, stomach lurching. That is where Aziraphale found him a moment later. Approaching, he touched his shoulder.

“Are you all right?”

“It’s nothing.”

“No, it’s not ‘nothing’, my dear. Talk to me. Please?”

Crowley practically fell into Aziraphale’s arms, head resting on his shoulder, cheek touching his neck. “Three angels just Fell. You feel it when it happens and it’s almost as unbearable as your own Fall, feeling your divinity stripped from you. Or so I’m told. I was personally escorted down and I never had my divinity taken away. It’s just buried deep. It was horrible feeling it over and over as angels Fell during the Rebellion.” 

None had Fallen since then; therefore Crowley had not been expecting to feel that particular sensation ever again.

“I’m sorry, my love.” Aziraphale replied, enveloping Crowley in his embrace. “I remember nothing of the Rebellion so I don’t know if angels felt anything. If they do, I’m not since I’m disconnected from the Host.”

God had taken quick action to protect Her champions, getting Crowley out of Heaven before he ended up killed for asking questions and hiding Aziraphale away in Eden where he remained in a deep sleep until he was needed for guard duty.

“Rowan?” Crowley asked suddenly with concern.

“She didn’t notice, but she’s never been part of the Host or Horde.”

“Good.” Crowley kissed his neck before letting go of the angel. “Better get back to reading to her. You know how she gets.”

“Yes. She inherited your temper,” replied Aziraphale. “I’ll tell you what I know about Lailah when I’ve finished the book. Shouldn’t be more than ten or fifteen minutes.”

“I’m going to ignore that first comment.”

His mobile rang; it was Raphael. Irritated he answered it as Aziraphale mouthed, _Be nice_. Crowley rolled his eyes.

“What?” he asked with only a hint of shortness.

“Well, hello to you, too, sunshine,” Raphael replied. “I’ve healed up Lailah and we’re coming down.”

“Ok. Knock when you get here. Bye.” Crowley hung up before Raphael could say more. “Lailah’s coming home.”

Aziraphale smiled. “That’s great news. I’ll go tell Rowan.”

Crowley felt like cooking, wishing not for the first time that Lailah ate. Instead he flicked on the espresso machine so it would be ready to go if she wished to have a latte. Maybe he’d make something anyway, just to rid himself of energy while they waited for Raphael to return Lailah. It had been a while since he baked anything. Maybe he should take some time to throw together a chocolate sponge cake with ganache frosting. The raspberries were ripening. They would look nice topping it. 

Gathering ingredients, and needed equipment and cookware, he got to work. There was something very relaxing for him about being in the kitchen. Measuring the flour, he dumped it in the mixing bowl. He had gotten his batter mixed up when he heard the knock on the front door.

“Aziraphale! Can you get that? I’m up to my elbows in cake batter here!”

“Get your mess cleaned up and do try not to be rude. Please?” came the reply.

He cheated, wishing the batter in the pan, the pan in the oven, and everything he used clean and put away. He could hear the squeal of his excited daughter and the slightly anxious tones with which Lailah was speaking as he entered the sitting room. Raphael was just giving her hugs as he prepared to leave.

“I’ll be back in a week to do more mind healing, ok? Take care of yourself. You, too, Aziraphale.” He either deliberately left Crowley out or didn’t notice him. Either way, Crowley didn’t care. The Archangel was just another source of annoyance in his opinion.

Rowan jumped into her arms, throwing her small hands around her neck. Her blue-gold eyes shone with happiness. Lailah shifted her to one side so she could at least give Aziraphale a one-armed hug having yet to notice Crowley with all the commotion. 

Crowley looked her over a moment before making himself known. She had her hair back in her usual ponytail and wore her usual shade of green shirt, but she looked off. Tired. Drawn. As if even the healing she received hadn’t make her completely healthy again. 

“Crowley,” she said when she noticed him. “C’mere.”

He walked over to get a hug from her, taking Rowan right afterwards. “Hi. How you feeling? Rowan, let Lailah rest for a while; she’s had a hard day. You can stay if you can be calm, ok?”

“Ok.”

“I’ll be fine, guys,” Lailah said. “I’ll just take her out on the porch and read to her or something quiet. I think I’m going to have to give her attention before I’m able to talk to you two.” 

“That is fine, my dear girl. We’re more patient,” said Aziraphale with a smile. 

Crowley started to follow the two out on the porch, but Aziraphale stopped him. 

“Let them have their time. I think Rowan needs it. Actually, I believe they both do.”

“Ok.” Crowley nodded and went to check on how much time was left on the oven before going out to the orchard to pick some raspberries.

They were just starting to fruit, being a summer variety, but he found enough red ripe ones to fill the small basket he brought out with him. After picking a few, he checked over to the bushes to make sure they were healthy. Outdoor plants required real gardening skills as trees, shrubs and flowers that survived the elements, the salty sea air and an army of pests saw threats as . . . well . . . non-threatening. These were not easily frightened coddled houseplants grown under perfect conditions. But Crowley didn’t mind. He’d spent thousands of years caring for them without the use of fear and was finding it once again rewarding.

Aziraphale approached, stealing a few berries from the basket. “The oven’s timer went off. I took your cake out.”

“Thanks, angel,” Crowley offered him a few of the black raspberries he favoured. Aziraphale popped them in his mouth.

“We should make raspberry wine,” Aziraphale commented. He plopped a few red raspberries he picked in his husband’s basket.

“If we get into making alcohol, we’re going to have to put up another building,” groused Crowley. “I’ll lose garden space.”

“We have five acres, my dear,” replied Aziraphale in a slightly exasperated tone. 

But Crowley had moved on; he was looking up towards the cottage where Lailah sat on a chair next to the sandbox where Rowan was showing her something in a bucket, excited over whatever she had found while digging in the sand. Everything looked normal even though Crowley was aware that wasn’t. He started walking back towards the cottage, Aziraphale following.

“You should tell her that Mason guy’s dead,” Crowley said, grabbing Aziraphale’s hand. “Let her know it’s over and he will not be harming anyone else.”

“I might. I don’t know,” replied Aziraphale. “This is unprecedented among angels. I don’t know how to help her.”

“I think we just need to be there for her,” said Crowley. “She’ll let us know what support she needs from us, I think. Lailah’s not the shy type.”

“If she asks, I’ll tell her. How about that? I’m not going to bring up the monster who traumatized her.”

Crowley nodded, opening the door for his husband. Aziraphale walked through with a smile, leaning on the counter while Crowley dumped the berries in a colander and rinsed them under cold water. He stole a couple as Crowley turned off the tap. The demon raised an eyebrow with a smile.

“Save some for the cake, angel. It’ll look rather plain without a few berries on top.”

“Your cooking is wonderful, garnished properly or not, my dear.”

Crowley leaned over to kiss him. “You’re just trying to flatter me.” He paused with a hint of a smile. “It’s working. Going to help me with the ganache?”

“Of course. I do enjoy learning to cook, you know.” 

Crowley handed him a recipe card. “You start getting out the bowls, and measuring spoons and cups. I’ll start gathering ingredients.”

They got to work. 

Outside Rowan made another mound of sand, picking a few wild flowers out of the grass to place on its sides and top. She looked up at Lailah and smiled at her.

“Daddy made a chocolate cake.”

“He did?” replied Lailah.

“Uh-huh. Probably because you came home.” Rowan sat back to look at her flower-covered mountain. 

“That was nice of him.”

“He’s not nice. He told me so.”

Lailah laughed. “Oh, he is. He just doesn’t like people to know that.”

She stopped a moment, realizing this was the first time she had laughed in a while. She smiled at the little girl sitting in the sand, dirty from head to toe, and realized she felt untroubled for the first time since this whole incident started. She plucked a flower from the wild ones growing in the grass to add to Rowan’s mountain.

“There. It looks complete, don’t you think? Now what?”

With a mischievous grin, Rowan stood up and stomped all over her creation smashing it into the rest of the sand while laughing. Lailah discreetly miracled away the dust she kicked up. Aziraphale was going to have conniptions over the amount of dirt that covered his daughter right now, Lailah just knew it. She held out her hand to the little girl. 

“What would you say about going to get cleaned up?”

“No.” 

“You need to. You’re a mess.”

“I want to play.” A nearly invisible coating of fire flared up on her head and shoulders for just a second. Lailah barely noticed it. “I want to stay out here. You’ll be safe out here.”

Alarm bells began ringing for the angel now. “What do you mean, Rowan? How will I be safe out here?”

“You can run away if bad people come again.”

Sitting back down in her chair, she beckoned Rowan over, pulling her up on her lap. “Oh, honey, nobody is going to come get me again. I’m safe now, ok? This place is safe. My friend Raphael, the one who dropped me off here, said that they’ll never bother me again and he’ll make sure of that.”

“You sure, Lailah?”

“Yes. I’m sure,” she replied. “Let’s go in and get you cleaned up. Your papa is not going to be happy about the amount of dirt all over you.”

She was right. Aziraphale took Rowan immediately to the bathroom to bathe her, complaining about the amount of sand in her hair on the way down the hall. Lailah knew the tub would be full of warm water by the time they got there.

“I wanna do it myself!” she head Rowan yell as she sat at the kitchen table watching Crowley garnish the finally finished cake. 

“He ought to let her,” the demon commented as he placed raspberries around the bottom of the cake. “It’s not like we can’t discreetly miracle her cleaner if she doesn’t do a good job.”

“He’s going to have trouble letting her grow up,” Lailah commented. “He’ll miss having a little one around the house.”

Crowley transferred the remaining raspberries from the colander to a bowl and brought them to the table with him. “If he wants any more children, then he can give birth to them. I’m done.”

Lailah laughed at that, her hands cupped around her latte mug. She smiled at Crowley, happy to be back here, even if that meant dealing with his sometimes acerbic commentary.

He munched on a couple of raspberries. “You ought to try one. They’re good.”

“I’ll think about it.”

“Live a little. You don’t have to sit there being an angel anymore. You can be and do as you please.”

Lailah was well aware of Crowley’s fondness for humanity and his wish to be human, for a given definition of “human,” which happened to be his and involve immortality and demonic powers. But she’d never connected with humans on the level he and Aziraphale had after all these years living among them being influenced by their lives on Earth. Now she felt she never would after dealing with what she just went through. She had spent time on missions and many of those missions had been in America. Most of that population were not bad people but now she had no desire to return there ever. Maybe that would change after she was healed mentally and emotionally. 

“What I want isn’t possible,” she finally said as Crowley sat there eating berries.

“Why?”

“I have no understanding of love of that kind, relationships, sex or anything of that nature, but some human forced himself upon me in the most violent way. It’s opened up a whole new world in the most negative way that I can’t even _begin_ to process. I don’t care how much mind healing Raphael does with me. He’s not going to be able to get rid of . . . of . . . _that_.” 

She looked ready to cry; Crowley looked ready to panic. He dropped the raspberry he was holding back in the bowl, not sure what to say or do, completely frozen. What do you say to someone who’s been through that kind of experience when yours has been nothing but positive?

They could Rowan splashing in the tub and Aziraphale talking to her as the silence stretched out. Lailah sniffed a bit, looking very much like she was about ready to just withdraw into herself.

“I’m sorry Crowley,” she mumbled. “I know you’re not exactly equipped to handle this kind of thing either. It’s nothing against you . . . it’s just the whole situation isn’t something I suspect you’ve had to deal with before.”

“Yeah, you’re kind of right about that,” he replied staring into the bowl of raspberries to avoid eye contact even though he had forgotten to take off his sunglasses when he came inside. “But we’re here if you need us. And I can’t believe I just said that . . . Mr. Good Deeds is down the hall. I excel at being up to no good.”

She got up to go hug him, surprising the demon who slowly put his arms around her in return. Lailah knew he still wasn’t used to hugs from anyone but Aziraphale and Rowan so was careful when she did decide to give him one. He smelled good, she noticed, like home, and assumed that Rowan and Aziraphale would, in their own ways, smell like home, too. Family. 

“You don’t have to act like a demon anymore, you know. We all know you do care.” She raised her head to look at him, but didn’t know what came over her for it became more than that. Her lips were on his, kissing him, tasting the very first fruit she had ever tasted in the form of raspberry juice left on his lips. 

He gently pushed her away, surprise evident in his eyes even behind those dark glasses. Lailah’s face slowly registered horror at what she had done even though he was giving her a sad understanding look. Her hands flew to her face, covering her mouth in dismay before she ran out the door. She could hear him call after her as she fled to the guesthouse.

“Lailah! Wait! Come back! I know you didn’t mean to. You’re just trying to deal with what happened to you.”

Crowley was after her like a shot, but she had a head start and was at her house before he could reach her. Still, he ran after her, being careful not to trip on the pots of flowers that lined the walk. But Crowley was too late. She had opened the door, entered and locked it behind her. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's not a common reaction to rape, but sometimes victims sometimes react to the trauma in a hypersexualized manner. This is a low-key exploration of that with the kiss. Nothing more than that will develop out of it.


	15. Love and Recovery

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Healing is never easy. Sometimes you have to talk a loved one off that proverbial edge.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content warning for a nightmare that suggests nonconsensual acts. It's in the last section in italics if you wish to skip over it.

Crowley knocked on the door, hoping Lailah would open it, but very sure her mind was not acting reasonable right now at all and it would remain closed no matter how much he tried to convince her he wasn’t angry about what just happened.

“Open up, Lailah. It’s ok. You don’t need to be upset over this.” He leaned his head against the door with a sigh. “I’m not exactly good at this stuff, you know. You’re all lucky I have any kind of empathy at all, really. Please open the door.”

Silence. He heard nothing but the waves and the occasional bird. 

“It’s ok,” he repeated. “I’ve spent a good part of my existence here on Earth. I’ve seen the best and worst of this planet. Hell forced me to be in the thick of things I wouldn’t wish on anyone and it’s a wonder I’m not suffering from the world’s worst case of psychological trauma, to be honest. I know what horrible things humans can do to each other and how it can affect someone. You’re reacting to what that creep did to you and all those muddled feelings you’re having, that’s all. I’m not upset or anything. Promise.”

He could hear her crying in there and it pulled on his heartstrings, for Crowley very much did have a heart even though at times he denied it.

He reached through the mental link to Aziraphale. 

_Angel?_

_Something wrong, my dear?_ Aziraphale could feel his unease through the link.

_I need you out here now if you’re done with Rowan’s bath._

_We’re done and you sound serious. Do I need to put her out for a bit?_

They didn’t do it very often, but they could use a miracle to lull Rowan’s brain into a couple hours’ nap if something came up that needed to be taken care of without a three-year-old in the way. 

_Please. I’ll explain when you get here._ Crowley sat to wait for him on one of two chairs in front of the tiny guesthouse and looked out over the beautifully landscaped gardens feeling quite proud of himself.

It was about five minutes later that he saw Aziraphale exit the back door and start up the path. Rising, Crowley headed out to meet him. Aziraphale gave him a puzzled look when he met him halfway between the two houses. There, out of earshot of the guesthouse, he explained the situation. 

“She kissed you?” said Aziraphale, sounding confused as to why she would do such a thing, but he had lived a rather sheltered existence compared to Crowley. He was still unaware that psychological trauma could cause people to behave in some very strange ways. “No offense, my love, but why on Earth for?”

“None taken. I tend to think of myself as a one angel kind of demon,” replied Crowley. “She was raped, Aziraphale. And as awful is that is, she also has no idea about what romantic love is but now has a very good idea how someone can use sex as a weapon. She’s confused and things just happened. Her mind wants to figure things out. Don’t be upset with her, please.”

“I’m not going to be,” said Aziraphale. “She’s dealing with some terrible things right now. You head back to the cottage and let me try. Maybe I can coax her out if you’re not around. She’s probably embarrassed as well as upset so she doesn’t want to face you.”

“Makes sense. I don’t like it, but it makes sense. I have to tend to the roses out front, so I’ll be there.” Crowley stalked off towards the gardening shed on the other side of the cottage.

Aziraphale continued up the path, coming to the guesthouse where he knocked. “Lailah? It’s Aziraphale. Will you talk to me?”

The door opened slightly. “You want to talk to me? I just kissed your husband.”

“I know. But I also know you’re confused about everything right now.”

She let him in. The guesthouse was small, having an open kitchen and living room area with a hallway leading down to a bathroom and bedroom. They sat in the living room. Lailah looked absolutely miserable.

“That was stupid of me,” she said.

“Well, we all do stupid things,” replied Aziraphale. “You wouldn’t believe the amount of stupid things I’ve done over six thousand years on this planet. You’ve been through a lot and well . . . things are going to happen. Better they happen with us because we understand.”

“You do?”

“We love you, Lailah,” he replied with a smile. “You’re family. Just don’t tell Crowley I said he was fond of you.”

She laughed at that.

“Do you need to talk about anything? If you need an ear, I’m willing.” 

“Raphael’s mind healing me, so that should help.” She paused. “But I’ve never been so helpless before. There was nothing I could do to stop him. And I think about what he took from me that I didn’t even know I had. Now I never will. I’ll never understand human love without it being tainted. I know what sex is but it’s completely negative. I feel worthless sometimes.”

“You are not worthless at all. You are wonderful and don’t you ever forget that.” Aziraphale stood up and approached her. “Can I give you a hug?”

She nodded and he embraced her, sending her all the love he could. She was an angel; she would feel it. He felt it back.

“Lailah, you already understand human love,” he said. “It’s not always romantic. There is love between all of us because we’ve formed a family here. That kind of love is just as valid as what Crowley and I have. We care about you and we’ll help you figure everything out.”

“I guess you just need to give me time,” she said.

“We can do that. However much you need.”

They changed subjects, talking for several hours until it was nearing dinnertime. 

“I shouldn’t keep you. Crowley and Rowan are going to need you,” Lailah said. “And you do have your bookshop to run. I know you’ve kept it closed since all this began and you do need to make money.”

“My dear girl, we’re fine on money. I cannot keep Crowley from wishing more into our bank account, so I just look the other way. You know he requires a certain level of lifestyle,” replied Aziraphale. “Are you coming with?”

“I think I’ll just stay here for now. Thanks, Aziraphale.”

He went back up to the cottage where Rowan was helping Crowley cook dinner. She was standing nearby holding a box of pasta while he put together some marinara sauce. She had also helped him make some garlic bread by placing it on the baking tray so he could put in the oven when it got closer to dinnertime. 

“Soon?” she asked as she watched Crowley work.

“Yes. I can see bubbles starting to form, so I’ll need that box soon,” he replied.

Rowan bounced happily. “All right.”

 _Weird likes, little ones_ , Crowley sent to Aziraphale.

Aziraphale smiled back. “The sauce smells delicious, my dear.”

“Where’s Lailah?” asked Rowan.

“She’s at her house,” said Aziraphale.

“No. I want her here.”

 _Demanding little shit_. That came across with a sense of pride.

 _Crowley, now is not the time._ Aziraphale refrained from reminding him that was their offspring he was talking about in that manner.

“Ok, Rowan, can I have the pasta? It’s time.” 

She trotted over and handed him the box. He thanked her and poured it in the boiling water before turning to Aziraphale.

“Watch that and make sure to stir it,” he said. “Oh and turn it down to about medium heat. I forgot to do that. _Al dente_ , remember? I taught you what that is. Don’t let it get soggy. C’mon, Rowan.”

Taking her hand they left for the guesthouse. Upon arriving, Crowley knocked and held a giggling Rowan up to the window. On the other side of the door Lailah sighed and opened it, a squealing child jumping into her arms. 

“You don’t play fair, do you?”

“Never have.” He grabbed her hand. “Let’s go.”

“Yeah, c’mon, Lailah,” Rowan chimed in. She had taken a hold of Lailah’s ponytail and was shaking it like a horse’s rein.

Crowley grinned. “She wants to have dinner with you and how can you say no to that cute little face?”

“Yeah! I’m cute!” said Rowan. 

Lailah just smiled wanly. “I’ll come, but this is going to be awkward.”

“Only if you make it that way,” replied Crowley. “Aziraphale and I understand you’re going through confusing emotions right now.”

Lailah wasn’t so sure, but she went with them to the cottage anyway. Aziraphale greeted her warmly, asking if she wanted anything. She shook her head with thanks, saying she wasn’t quite ready yet to start trying food, but she’d be happy to sit down and converse with them and Rowan.

Crowley mixed the pasta Aziraphale had taken off the cooker and drained with the sauce and brought the bowl to the table along with a mug he put in front of Lailah.

“At least have a latte,” he said. “I know it’s been a while.”

She smiled at them. Something told her everything would be all right. 

The three of them ate while she conversed wit them, mostly Rowan who demanded the lion’s share of Lailah’s attention. Her parents let her, given how hard this had been on her and how she didn’t understand what was truly going on.

After dinner they all ended up in the living room where they all ended up sitting on the floor helping Rowan build a city with her wooden blocks on the coffee table. Rowan got out a box of toy cars to run through the roads between buildings. Crowley changed the one he was given into a tiny replica of the Bentley parked out in the garage he wished up to protect it. Lailah drove hers through the streets just as Rowan dictated. 

“Do I get a car?” Aziraphale asked her.

“No,” Rowan replied. “You always ride with Daddy.”

Crowley hid a smirk.

_I saw that._

Eventually Rowan got bored with that and decided to cook for them in her play kitchen. By the time they had “eaten” their meals, it was close to her bedtime and Aziraphale went off with her to get her pyjamas on and read her a bedtime story like he always did.

Lailah stood up. “I should go.”

“Ok, suit yourself,” said Crowley as he put dishes and fake food back in Rowan’s play kitchen. “But I don’t see why.”

“Because it’s awkward, Crowley. I messed up.”

“No, you didn’t. You reacted to something that happened to you. I think what happened confused you and that’s ok. You’re not alone, you know. Although I’d rather you’d tried raspberries in the normal manner.”

Lailah laughed at his last comment. “Don’t worry. I will.”

“Come on, you two,” called Aziraphale. “Someone wants kisses goodnight.”

They dutifully headed down the hall to give Rowan her goodnight hugs and kisses, the three of them returning to living room to talk.

She sat in the middle of the couch, flanked by Aziraphale and Crowley, telling the story of what had happened to her after she was taken. Aziraphale held her hand, occasionally patting it when the narrative became hard for her to speak of. Crowley had a hand on her shoulder that she could feel tighten in anger sometimes when she described what happened to her. When she was finished, Aziraphale took her in his arms, holding her tight as she sobbed while Crowley rubbed her back. 

“We’ll get through this,” Aziraphale said. 

“Why do humans do things like this?” she asked.

“Free will,” replied Aziraphale.

“Stupid idea if it means that people get to go around hurting each other,” she sniffed, wiping away tears from her cheek.

“Humans are capable of the most wonderful actions and the worst. I’ve seen a lot of both since I slithered up here,” commented Crowley. “And yes, it means they can cause harm to others, but it’s better than the alternative. You were living it, remember? We were really nothing more than slaves – do as you’re told or else. It's better not to have to follow a predestined path even if it has its trade offs.”

“But he’ll just keep getting away with it!” Lailah burst out. 

“Not anymore,” Aziraphale said quietly. “Ligur made sure of that.”

Lailah’s green eyes registered surprise. “Oh . . . I’d really like to talk to him. Ligur that is.”

“You should probably call him and let him know you’re safe now,” said Aziraphale. 

“Yes, I should. Tomorrow. Right now I’m exhausted.”

“You could try sleep,” suggested Crowley. “It might help calm your brain down.”

“Maybe later. I think I’d like to walk along the shoreline while there’s still a bit of light left. Want to come?” she asked.

“Of course,” smiled Aziraphale while Crowley agreed.

Lailah stood there on their little beach, hands in her pockets, eyes closed. Aziraphale and Crowley watched as she breathed in the sea air, the wind blowing her ponytail around. Crowley leaned in against Aziraphale, turning his head slightly to look at him.

_Is she going to be all right now, you think?_

_In time she will. Mind healing is a bit different. It’s not as instantaneous as most physical healing is. I assume mind healing wasn’t done often in Hell._

_No, not at all. Nobody cared if you were carrying around an unhealthy dose of mental problems. Probably made you a better demon._

“I wish the water was a bit warmer,” said Lailah. “I’d look for some shells for Rowan.”

“Plenty of time for that,” said Aziraphale. “We have the rest of the summer.”

“I want to fly. _Really_ fly, not just get the old wings out to glide across Heaven. I might do that when I start feeling better. Just go for a trip on the wing,” she said. “Do you two miss it?”

“Sometimes,” said Crowley. “I want to teach Rowan very badly but it can get so windy around here I think she needs to be heavier. And we should probably start with wing exercises or something since she’s never used them and wasn’t created all ready to go.”

“I’ve been researching how juvenile birds exercise their wings before they fledge to get some ideas,” added Aziraphale, blushing a bit. “It’s all we really have to go on.”

“You do what you have to,” Lailah said, walking the small distance back up to where they stood. “I get dibs on helping. She’s my niece, after all.”

They stayed outside until the sun set, choosing then to head back up to the cottage for warm drinks on the couch. Crowley made tea and coffee while Aziraphale conjured up a couple of blankets. He tucked one around Lailah where she sat on the couch before going to see if Crowley needed any help. His husband handed him a latte he brought back to Lailah.

“Here you go. Sorry your first summer here is rather chilly. It’s usually not quite this cold at night.”

“Thank you,” she said as she took it. “You boys are really being so sweet to me.”

“I’m not sweet,” called Crowley from the kitchen.

“Yes, how dare you offend him by implying he’s a nice person,” said Aziraphale with a wink.

The three of them huddled in front of a film for the evening, mostly quietly watching it without much conversation. They chose light fare – a comedy that was out in the theatres a couple of years ago, the husbands feeling that Lailah was not up to anything serious or that would display violence. She enjoyed the film and the company but seemed reluctant to leave the couch when it was over.

“Is something wrong, my dear girl?” asked Aziraphale.

“The thought of being alone is kind of intimidating right now,” she admitted. “I don’t really want to head back to the guest house.”

“You’re welcome to stay here, watch more films or shows if you wish,” he replied. “We also have the spare bedroom if you’d like to lie down for a bit.”

“I wish I slept like you guys,” she sighed, plucking at her blanket. “I don’t want to sit around thinking about things.”

“I could put you out for the night,” suggested Crowley. “It might do you some good, allowing your mind to relax instead of reliving trauma.”

“Ok, I’d be willing to try it,” she said. “Can you later teach me to fall asleep on my own?”

“My dear girl, he can teach anyone about the fine art of sleeping,” laughed Aziraphale.

“Oi!”

So Lailah conjured herself up some pyjamas, inspected the bed in the third bedroom and wondered what to do next. She sat on the edge of it waiting. Finally her curiosity got the best of her and she bounced a bit on it. The last time she was in a bed, it was not the most pleasant of experiences. This was quite fun in a childish way.

Carefully she lay down and pulled the blankets up over herself. It was something she had never done before. She turned on her side so she could see the doorway, light filtering in from the living room along with Aziraphale and Crowley’s voices. But she was no longer alone in the bed; a ghost had joined her. She felt him up against her back like he was after the deed was done. Tears sprang up in her eyes and she quickly turned to stare at the ceiling concentrating on the feel of the mattress and sheet against her back. 

A soft knock brought her to reality again. Aziraphale had poked his head in. She sat up.

“Ready? Oh, Lailah, why the tears?” He was hovering at the edge of the bed instantly. 

“Turning on my side brought back memories,” she mumbled. “Something that stupid.”

“That’s not stupid. You experienced trauma. It’s going to leave you with some memories you’re going to have to wrestle with. I know the mind healing will help and I just wish I could do it as well as Raphael can so I could give you some relief right now,” said Aziraphale, giving her a hug. “We can all go back to the couch and spend the night playing card games or watching films or talking.”

She shook her head. “No. Crowley’s right. I could really use about eight hours of unconsciousness to allow my mind to clear itself.”

He patted her hand with a smile. “Ok. I’ll go tell him you’re ready. He’s much better at doing this than I am. Good night, my dear girl.”

“Good night, Aziraphale.”

Crowley replaced him, coming quietly into the room and standing by the bed in a manner that made it seem like he wanted to be smaller, less like he was looming over her. “Can I sit?”

“Sure.”

He sat as if he was trying to take up the least amount of room possible on the bed. “Ok, I’ll need to put my hands on the sides of your head. You’ll need to lie down, unless you don’t mind falling over in a dead sleep.”

Lailah settled in, concentrating on how soft the pillows were and how comfortable the bedclothes felt with their relaxing neutral colours, how she was safe here where nobody could ever harm her. She looked up at Crowley knowing whatever fierce dedication he had to Aziraphale extended to her and Rowan as well. As long as he was around to keep watch, everything would be safe. 

He seemed to know what she was thinking. “I warded the houses and the rest of the property is surrounded by alarm spells. Nobody’ll harm you again. Let’s do this, all right?”

“All right.”

“This should knock you out for a good eight hours and I think you need it. Night, Lailah.” He put his slim hands on her head.

She didn’t get a chance to respond.

Crowley looked upon her sleeping face before getting up to leave. For a moment he thought about how both Lailah and Rowan had come rather unexpectedly into his life when he anticipated only ever really having Aziraphale. He shook his head and quietly made his way to the master bedroom.

Aziraphale had just finished putting on his pyjamas and was turning down the patchwork quilt done in shades of grey and darker blues to reveal slate blue satin sheets. Like most of their interior decorating, this was a compromise of their styles. Although most of the cottage carried more rural themes because even Crowley agreed it was more appropriate here and really, he got to design the flat above the bookshop since he was the first to reside there, it was only fair that the angel got to choose the décor here.

“Did you get Lailah settled?”

“Yes. Poor kid’s been through a lot.”

“Kid? Crowley, we’re all around the same age.”

“She’s naïve about Earth things compared to us. So we’re the elders here, physical age aside.”

Aziraphale let it drop because somethings weren’t worth arguing over. He climbed into bed to wait for his spouse. Crowley pulled on pyjama bottoms and joined him, leaning over to give him a kiss good night. 

“I was thinking of reopening the bookshop at least part-time next week. I’m going to lose customers if I don’t.”

“I never thought I’d hear you talk about being concerned that you’re losing customers.” Crowley’s voice was a bit muffled since he currently was nuzzling against Aziraphale’s neck. “You don’t need to sell books. I have us covered.”

“It’s the principle of the thing," replied Aziraphale putting an arm around Crowley to stroke his back.

“Well, thank the green Earth I lack such principles or we’d be in trouble,” said Crowley as he relaxed under the touch.

“Oh, hush.”

Aziraphale reached over to turn off the bedside lamp so they could settle in for the night.

~*~*~

_Lailah was lying unclothed on the bed in the lap of an equally unclothed Crowley, thankfully with her head resting on a pillow that shielded more intimate parts of his body from her. Aziraphale was at the other end of the bed, his hands on her bare thighs as Crowley’s touched her sides. He wore nothing as well, but luckily the light was such in this odd place that shadows were cast on his lower half hiding it from her view._

_“This is the only kind of love that matters,” he was saying to her._

_“Yes,” added Crowley. “All other kinds pale in comparison to this.”_

_“But it’s too bad you’re ruined for love now.”_

_“You’re broken. You’ll never be whole again.”_

_“But at least you can experience this physical means of this kind of love.” Aziraphale was climbing on top of her, his eyes harsh and his face unkind._

_“It’s all you’re ever going to understand about the one true way to love.” Crowley’s hands were cupping her breasts, his nails biting into her skin, his voice sounding hard to her ears._

_“No!” she screamed as she struggled against them._

_Past the foot of the bed a door opened revealing a soft welcoming light that was in contrast to the harsh beams and shadows that occupied the room. She raised her head upon seeing it, seeing two figures standing there, one of them beckoning to her while the other held the door open. She struggled to free herself from the two monsters who held her down for that’s what they were. The glamours fell away revealing they only had the barest of similarities to Aziraphale and Crowley._

_They were all long fangs, sharp claws and ugly bat wings, their faces distorting into something terrible to look at as she broke free from false Crowley’s grasp and pushed false Aziraphale aside to flee to the room. She ran for the door where stood the true Aziraphale and Crowley, waiting for her with a blanket to cover her bare skin and hugs to keep her safe._

_The door slammed behind her as the creatures inside howled their frustration at her escape._

_“Don’t give into those thoughts. Don’t let them rule you.”_

_“All love is important, never forget that.”_

_She clung to them both, understanding. She had people in her life who cared about her and that was what mattered. It wasn’t a cure coming to this realization, by any means, but it was a start. She had a hard journey ahead but she wasn’t walking that road alone._

Lailah fell back into a sound sleep, the nightmare soon forgotten with no further ones arising to disturb her. She’d forget about the strange dream, awaking in the morning feeling refreshed and better than she had felt since she was abducted. She started to think that with time, maybe her life could get back to some semblance of order.


	16. Friends and Support

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lailah gets visits from both Ligur and Raphael. The husbands get one from God, although Crowley is far from happy about that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter will wrap up this particular section of the story. I'm going to put it on hiatus for a few weeks while I start the next section since this I experienced a lot of writer's block writing this one. Besides, I have a shorter story (seven chapters) I wrote for a friend that he's pushing me to publish. God knows I write too much and am already in danger of saturating this place with my work. Three things a week is pushing it. 😂

Ligur had paid a visit the next day, much to Crowley’s annoyance but once he heard that Rowan was doing better he left with Lailah for the guest house where they could have privacy, and where Ligur and Crowley would not antagonize each other.

Rowan did sleep through the night now that her world was restored to normal. However, when Lailah left for her visit with Ligur, she spent a lot of time looking out the windows facing the guest house. Aziraphale finally lifted her away from them and tried to engage her in some play. When that failed, he offered to read her a book.

“No. I don’t wanna.”

“Rowan, you can’t stand at the window all day waiting for Lailah.”

“Yes, I can!” She ran off to her room to pout.

“Maybe we need to head in to town for lunch or something,” said Crowley from where he was chopping vegetables at the counter so that dinner prep later would go smoother. “Had I know she was going to have trouble with this, I would have thrown together some things for a picnic.”

Aziraphale walked over to snag a slice of bell pepper. “It’s been a while since we’ve been to the café. They’ll be happy to see us.’

“Just a moment here.” Crowley used his knife to scrape the prepped vegetables from the cutting board to a container. Sealing it up, he put it in the fridge then wished the dirty dishes clean. “I’ll get the car out. You get the kid.”

It had been a few days since Crowley had had the Bentley out on the road and even the short drive into town was a nice little jaunt. One of these weekends he planned to convince Aziraphale to head up to London. He hadn’t been up there in a couple of months with all that had been going on between gardening, raising a child and now helping Lailah get back to normal. He was itching to not only see the city again, but take the Bentley out on the open road for a long drive. Cars weren’t meant to sit in garages all the time.

Soon they were on their way, having left a note taped to the back door for Lailah in case they didn’t get back before Ligur left. Rowan sat in her child seat behind Crowley where Aziraphale could keep an eye on her. She watched the scenery go by her window pointing out things like cows and interesting trees as they drove by.

Crowley closed his eyes and let the Bentley drive itself for a moment. Yes, it did feel good to get out on the road, even if the trip was short and involved a small child in the backseat talking about livestock.

~*~*~

“. . . So, yeah, things aren’t that much different in Hell after the second attempt. Everyone just pretends it never happened because we don’t want to be even further on the wrong side of God. Those who sat on the fence during the Revolution but Fell anyway still hope for redemption,” Ligur was saying as he sat with Lailah in her living room. “They look to Crowley who has God’s favour, but they don’t understand. He’s different and the ambivalent Fell so the sides were even. But how are you doing?”

“I’ll get through it with some help from my friends,” she replied. “Were you ambivalent?”

“No,” said Ligur. “I was fully on Satan’s side. But spending all that time in limbo after the world was reset but I only came back halfway taught me a lot about things. I guess I’m just not as evil as I once was. Even killing people isn’t fun anymore. The last soul I look was for revenge, not because I got any joy out of it. You just don’t want to talk about what happened, do you?”

“Not really.”

“You need to. Even a stupid old demon like myself knows that.”

“How’s Hastur doing these days? He must be annoyed you’ve got assignments up here constantly instead of having time to spend with him.”

“He always gets over it. We’ve been cordial too long to let that get in our way.” Ligur got up. “A cigarette sounds good. I’m going out to the porch.”

He headed out, Lailah following him, a bit annoyed. She sat down in the chair opposite him on the small area outside her front door. She continued to glare as he lit his cigarette. He took a few puffs, laughing at her.

“You never did like that I smoke.”

“It’s a nasty habit even if it won’t kill a demon,” she replied. “And you smell like an ashtray afterwards.”

“Believe me, it’s not that noticeable Downstairs.”

“Well, I’m not down there,” she replied. 

He took a deliberately long draw on it, letting out the smoke slowly. “You’re good at drawing. Ever thought of expanding it? Like maybe sculpt or paint?”

“Not recently. My muse has kind of left me,” she replied.

“Muse?” he asked, having never heard the word.

“Inspiration. I just haven’t felt like getting back into it.”

“You can’t let it get to you,” Ligur replied. 

“I’m kind of tired of hearing that,” Lailah snapped, shifting angrily in her chair. “It’s very hard to not to. You try going through something like that and fight to keep it out of your head. I feel broken and worthless and it’s hard not to think of it.”

“Ok! Ok!” he put his hands in defense. “Just saying . . . That arsehole’s dead. He won’t ever hurt anyone again.”

“Aziraphale told me. Unfortunately, it doesn’t bring much comfort.” She got up to pace the area in front of the small house.

“I reckon it wouldn’t. But I thought I’d let you know. He’ll be enjoying extra punishment for a few millennia, too.”

“I hope your torturers enjoy it,” she said as she looked out over the vegetable garden.

“I’m sure they will.” Ligur replied. “I thought it would help you out.”

She sighed and ran a hand through her mid-back-length hair that she kept loose today. 

“Nothing is helping right now. Even sleep gave me weird visions.”

“Sleep? No supernatural being sleeps.”

“Crowley and Aziraphale do. I thought I’d give it a try.”

“Well, they’re weird.”

“Maybe, but in a good way.”

They were silent while he finished up his cigarette. He threw it on the ground, vanishing it before it even hit. His hand was in his pocket, reaching for the pack again when he caught Lailah raising an eyebrow at him out of the corner of his eye.

“Isn’t one enough?” she asked pointedly. “It’s not like you need to smoke another. We can’t get addicted like humans can.”

“It’s something to do,” Ligur replied, but he took his hand out of his coat pocket without grabbing the package of cigarettes. 

“Is it true the three that kidnapped me Fell? I was only up in Heaven a few hours so I didn’t hear any gossip.”

“Yes. They’re not adjusting well. Serves them right.”

“Yeah, it kind of does.” She looked at him with the most piercing gaze, her green eyes almost staring right into his heart. “Why do you stay in Hell if you’ve changed so much?”

He shrugged. “Unlike Crowley, I don’t have an out and I do have Hastur down there. We’ve got something going on. Friendship, maybe. I don’t know. Demons aren’t supposed to have friends, but I like hanging around him and he likes hanging around me. So it’s not all bad.”

“I couldn’t stay in Heaven. A lot of angels are kind of uppity. Some are quite nice but nobody but Raph wanted a thing to do with me after our little rebellion to protect Rowan. Even the nice ones stayed away to keep from being bullied.” Lailah focused on twisting a lock of hair around her finger as she spoke. “I had planned on staying a few years until they moved back to London just to let things cool down upstairs, but I have no desire to return there. I think I belong here now.” 

“You do.”

They sat silent again but somehow silence was enough. Suddenly Lailah rose to head back inside.

“Stay right there,” she told Ligur.

Returning with her sketch pad and some pencils, she proceeded to draw him sitting there enjoying the fresh air. Maybe her muse was coming back. 

~*~*~

“Rowan, don’t throw your chips on the floor,” said Aziraphale as he ate his Cornish pasty. _Please tell me you didn’t teach her that_ , he sent to Crowley.

 _Hey, she comes up with things on her own,_ Crowley replied, giving him an innocent look, very visible without the sunglasses. 

Since the Almighty lifted his curse as part of a wedding gift for him and Aziraphale, he tended to switch his eye colour to his original shade of golden amber when going into town here as sunglasses inside attracted glares, which didn’t bother him. But he had a family now who didn’t deserve to be thought of negatively because of him. Normally he kept the snake eyes he was cursed to wear for six thousand years. As he told Aziraphale, he made peace with his past and the important role they both had played in saving the world. He wore those eyes now as a badge of honour even if he had to hide them from those who wouldn’t understand. It was rare in London he ever switched to his amber shade as it was rare anybody actually cared about the sunglasses.

Besides, sunglasses were cool.

“They’re cold,” complained Rowan about her chips.

“We can fix that,” said Aziraphale.

“I wanna try,” Rowan begged.

“Not here,” said Crowley. “I know. It’s been a while since I gave you a lesson. I’m sorry. We’ll get back to them. “

Her chips were rewarmed without her assistance although as young as she was, she badly wanted to use her powers.

After dinner they took a walk around town to give Lailah more time with Ligur. Rowan was initially upset over that and Crowley wasn’t much better with his thoughts about it, but both finally accepted that she needed time with him, strange friendship though it was.

The husbands sat on a bench as they let Rowan run around in a nearby park. She found some other children to play with and was having fun participating in some kind of game of chase while Crowley and Aziraphale watched her. It wasn’t often she got to play with other children. They had moved down here temporarily for the isolation while they instructed Rowan in the proper use of her powers and she gained control of them. Outings tended to be only occasional because there was always the chance her control would slip and they’d have a mess to clean up.

“I worry sometimes about her,” said Aziraphale.

“Why’s that?”

“She only has us. She’ll only ever have us. We both know getting up close and personal with humans is not an option unless you want constant heartbreak. Immortality has its price when you live on Earth.” Aziraphale grabbed the demon’s hand. “I’m happy I have you. You make life here worth it.”

“Oh, don’t get sappy on me, angel.” But Aziraphale could see Crowley’s cheeks start to colour with a light blush. “And I wouldn’t worry about Rowan yet. Look at Lailah, for example. She’s quite happy with being part of our little family without turning it into a threesome, or going out there to find herself her own partner, or something. Maybe Rowan will be the same way. She’ll just be happy to have people who love her and not need anything romantic. You and I are kind of unique among our kind, you know.”

“She’ll be fine, don’t worry about a thing,” said a third voice suddenly from beside Aziraphale.

The angel jumped in surprise. Crowley just groaned. Sitting with them in a blue dress with a cloud pattern and a large floppy white sunhat was God. 

“Hi, boys. It’s been a while so I thought I’d see what’s up. Rowan’s really growing up, isn’t she?”

“I liked it better when You weren’t interfering in my life,” groused Crowley. 

“Crowley!” exclaimed Aziraphale. “I’m sorry, Lord, but You know how he is. Actually, You probably know better than anyone.”

“It’s ok,” replied God. “He, more than anyone, has a right to his opinions. How’s Lailah doing?”

“I think with help from us and Raphael’s mind healing, she’ll be fine, Lord,” said Aziraphale, still a bit unnerved by God sitting next to him.

“She’d be better than fine if she hadn’t have gone through that hell in the first place,” muttered Crowley.

“That is part of Lailah’s journey. There are going to be bad times and I cannot be stepping in to smooth everything over. The choices she makes now as a result of those experiences will help her develop as an independent being free of the Host’s influence. Crowley, you of all people should know how bad experiences can form someone’s future. She will make it through this although it will change her in some ways. Every experience does.”

Crowley crossed his arms with a huff. “I wanted to tear them all to shreds for their parts in all this. I don’t care all four of them ended up in Hell. You really need to get a handle on those angels of yours. Bunch of arrogant pricks.”

He got up, walking away from the bench without looking back. Crowley, of all the angels and demons, could get away with the most with Her. Maybe it was due to her guilt over what She had to allow to happen to him.

Aziraphale gave God an apologetic shrug, flustered by his husband’s attitude.

“He has every right to be angry. I won’t correct him,” She replied. “And he’s not wrong. A good third of the Host did develop this arrogant attitude. One of the prices I paid for stepping back for the sake of free will.” She smiled wanly and Aziraphale felt he was looking at a Creator who couldn’t completely win no matter what choice She made. “Lailah will heal if she makes the right choices and there is someone out there for Rowan if they decide they’re right for each other.”

“She’ll just get her heart broken if she falls in love with a human, Lord,” protested Aziraphale.

“If I was to say any more I would spoil things. Raise her well. Don’t worry about it. Love finds a way.” She disappeared from the bench, fading away like a mist.

~*~*~

One evening about two weeks later Lailah walked into the cottage’s sitting room to find Crowley sitting in front of the couch while Aziraphale sat behind him on it brushing out his long hair, preparing to put it in a simple ponytail at the nape of his neck where it would hang down in wavy red locks between his shoulder blades. He had cut it short while Rowan was a baby and very grabby only to let it grow again once she had passed that stage. 

He’d kept it this length for almost two and a half years, which was something for the capricious demon. He did look good in it, Lailah decided and she knew Aziraphale loved to style it so suspected he’d wear it long more often than not anymore. It would be part of how Crowley expressed his love. And he did so enjoy having it played with.

She walked around the couch, planting a sisterly kiss on each of their cheeks; Aziraphale gave her one back. “You two are so cute, you know that?”

“Now I do,” said Crowley, who had to hold still which let him off the hook when it came to returning the affection. “And I still don’t appreciate it.” But he wasn’t serious.

Aziraphale chuckled.

Lailah felt a tug on her shirt. 

“Can I brush your hair?” Rowan asked. 

“Sure.” Lailah miracled her hairbrush from her bedroom into her hand and gave it to Rowan. 

“Sit there,” Rowan pointed to the space next to Crowley, who was enjoying having his brushed until he nearly melted.

Lailah felt her seat herself behind her, short legs dangling down on her torso. She prepared to feel the brush being dragged through her hair since three year olds weren’t exactly gentle when it came to styling hair. It wasn’t too bad and Rowan even managed to get the hair tie out by herself without tangling it in Lailah’s locks.

“Papa, why do you have short hair?”

“Because I like it that way.”

She intently watched him as he brushed her other parent’s hair and copied him, carefully taking the brush through Lailah’s straight brown hair just like he was doing with Crowley’s. As Aziraphale pulled Crowley’s hair back, taking it into one of his hands, she observed rather closely, copying him exactly. Unfortunately, her hands were too small to hold all of Lailah’s hair. Some of it cascaded out, but Rowan kept trying. She tried to smooth things out with the brush like her angelic parent, but it only partially worked. Still she was proud of the ponytail she made even though it was a rather clumsy looking thing when all was said and done. 

“It looks lovely, Rowan,” said Aziraphale, who had finished Crowley’s ponytail but was still combing his hand through it while the demon all but purred.

“Thank you, Rowan,” Lailah gave her a hug.

The little girl giggled and ran off to her room. “You need ribbons.”

“Lucky you,” said Crowley, looking at her through half-lidded eyes.

“It’s relaxing. I wasn’t expecting that. I figured it was just something lovers did.”

“It’s not. Friends can do that, too,” said Aziraphale. “If you ever want me to help you with your hair, let me know. There are a few things I can teach you.”

“Ok, thanks.”

“Just remember you don’t get to borrow him too much,” said Crowley. “He’s my hairstylist.”

“I never did ask . . . Did you have a nice talk with Ligur?” inquired Aziraphale.

“Yes. It was rather nice to see him. It’s been a while,” said Lailah. “Years.”

“Well, it’s good to have friends,” replied Aziraphale, finally giving Crowley’s ponytail one final playful tug. 

“I’d better start dinner,” said Crowley, standing up after leaning against Aziraphale’s arm for a few moments. “We’re having curry. Rowan’s having spaghetti. One of these days she’ll be ready for the spicy stuff. It had better be soon. She’s half demon for Hell’s sake.”

Lailah felt the slight buzz of her mobile and pulled it out of her jeans pocket. “Raph’s here. I’m heading out to the guesthouse.”

She met him out by her front door where he broke into a chuckle over her hair. 

“New hairstylist?”

“Yes and she’s just starting out so there are going to be a few mishaps, I think. Come in.”

She opened the door for him, following behind. He looked around. “You got new furniture.”

“Yeah, that awful beige stuff that came with the place just wasn’t doing it,” she replied. “I finally got around to replacing it.” She gestured towards the teal couch with its cream and salmon throw pillows, all cheerful and bright. “I didn’t know shopping could be so . . . therapeutic. Redoing this room helped boost my mood.”

“Good,” said Raphael. “Just don’t go overboard.”

“I’m redoing parts of the kitchen next. I think I’ll incorporate the teal into the upholstery on the kitchen chairs and add a gold tile backsplash to make it pop.” 

He laughed. “You don’t have to do it all at once, you know. Relax a bit. Don’t take it too fast or you’ll turn it into a frenzy that’s just covering up the bad times. Ok? Shall we?”

He indicated the couch and sat down first. Lailah sat beside him close enough he could put his hands on her temples to do another session of healing. First he looked her over, brushing a stray hair out of her face.

“Did you have a good week? Less nightmares?” he asked. 

She had taken up sleeping a few nights a week, finding it helpful for the most part. “I just had one. I didn’t get upset over things or cry as much, either.”

“Good.” He got to work, hands in place, eyes closed so he could concentrate. 

Slowly he unraveled a bit more of her trauma, taking away more of the edge and blunting her negative feelings and reactions. They stayed like that for half an hour, still as stone on the edge of the couch as Raphael did work invisible to the casual observer. Finally his hands dropped away as he smiled at her.

“That’s enough for today. I don’t want to exhaust you.” 

He found her smile a bit more like its old charming self, which put him at ease. Last week was a bad one for her, with her leaning a lot on Crowley and Aziraphale. They didn’t seem to mind helping her get through this, which puzzled him. Crowley didn’t possess high levels of empathy normally, but he had endless amounts for those he loved and protected. Aziraphale was always an introverted one and adding Lailah to his busy life of being a father, husband and occasionally a shopkeeper, when he bothered to transport to London to open up the bookshop, surprisingly didn’t overwhelm him.

He shouldn’t wonder about, he decided. He should be glad she had support even if he didn’t get along with Crowley and wasn’t anything more than acquaintances with Aziraphale. They had met this challenge as well as they had met the past few ones. He discovered he respected them for that. 

“Hey,” Raphael said to Lailah. “Shall we fix your hair? It’s cute the kid did that, but it looks kind of uncomfortable, half in and half out of a ponytail.”

“Oh, yeah.” She grinned sheepishly. “I forgot about that.” She reached around to undo the hair tie, tangling it further in her hair. “Dammit.”

“Here let me help you.” He reached up to help her then realized what he was doing when their hands touched. “I’m sorry. I’m male-presenting. I should have asked.”

“Don’t be,” she replied. “I may not be completely healed yet, but I know you’re safe. Now are you going to help me out here or should I go find a mirror?”

Together they untangled her hair from the tie.

“Thanks,” Lailah grinned at him. “Do you need to head back or can you stay for some coffee?”

“I can stay,” said Raphael. “I could use the conversation, to be honest. It gets so dull in Heaven.”

“Tell me about it,” agreed Lailah as she got the coffee out from the cabinet and prepared the coffee maker.

It was nice he was staying a while, she thought while she pulled out mugs and placed them on the table along with sugar and milk. He ended up staying with her talking for most of the evening – two angels clutching mugs of coffee laughing and exchanging stories. 

Down on the bench by the beach, an angel and a demon sat holding hands as they watched the sun set. Crowley kept looking over his shoulder at the lights on in the guesthouse. Occasionally he scowled. Aziraphale finally sighed his exasperation and reached up, gently turning Crowley’s head towards him.

“Please give it a rest, my dear,” he said, following it with gentle kisses.

“He’s been there forever. She’s fraternizing with her boss, never a good idea.”

“She needs friends,” replied Aziraphale. “She was rather the social butterfly before everything fell apart for her after Rowan was born. Let her be.”

“What if it turns into something?” Crowley rested his head on Aziraphale’s shoulder. “She’s not ready for that after what happened to her. And I don’t like Raphael.”

Aziraphale squeezed an arm between Crowley and the bench, pulling him in just a bit closer. “You’re getting overprotective. A social visit from him doesn’t mean she’s going to burst into the cottage tomorrow proclaiming they’re dating. They’re just friends.”

“It’s on your head if she does.”

Aziraphale chose not to respond to that. Instead he stood up, pulling Crowley to his feet. Taking his hand, he started to lead the demon back to the cottage. “Come on, my love. We have the time right now. What do you say we do some fraternizing of our own?”

Crowley could never say no to that.

So the evening was spent differently by the two pairs of celestial and infernal beings on a patch of land in the South Downs near the sea. In the guesthouse two angels spent time catching up over coffee. In the main cottage, an angel and a demon decided to use their time to reacquaint with each other physically. Things were finally starting to return to normal again on this little slice of Paradise.


	17. Book 3: Through Good Times and Bad

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _[Aziraphale] wasn’t in the mood for this. After his day thinking about how he was missing out on his daughter’s first experiences, he wasn’t remotely up for leading a small dinner party between friends, but he was going to have to. Crowley wasn’t going to be cooperative or friendly with Raphael around even though Raphael was extending the olive branch to both him and Aziraphale these days._
> 
> Family life is causing both the husbands stress for very different reasons.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy 30th birthday, Good Omens! Have a bit of fluff and angst. (It won't last. The angst, anyway.)
> 
> I'm bringing this out of hiatus and hoping my writer's block doesn't strike again.

~*~*~

Chapter 17: Flying Lessons

~*~*~

Crowley was out in the greenhouse inspecting pots of fuchsia and begonias he had overwintered there out of the harsh elements. The begonias were of the angel wing and dragon wing varieties, blooming small bundles of red flowers. They were easy enough to keep and Crowley had developed a fondness for their wing-shaped leaves. Fuchsia he had ignored for the longest time as their flowers tended towards whites and hot pinks, not exactly colours he favoured. Recently he had come across a variety that bloomed red and a purple so deep it looked black and finally brought one home. He further justified his decision to raise them because they were rather fussy plants and Crowley liked a challenge. 

The greenhouse door slammed prompting Crowley to mutter, “Careful.”

“Papa said we could practice flying today!” squealed an excited Rowan, age six.

“I know,” said Crowley with a smile. “Isn’t it great?”

“Yeah. He said to come get you. It’s time. C’mon, Daddy!”

She led him outside into a nice sunny spring day that wasn’t too windy. Aziraphale waited in a clear portion of the garden, his perfectly preened white wings out already. Crowley approached him, giving his feathers a stroke. 

“Aren’t you glad you married someone willing to make sure your wings look their best?”

“Oh, hush, you.”

“C’mon! You can talk later. I want to fly!”

“Hey, wait for me! I want to see this.” Lailah ran up, mobile out. “I want to get video.”

“Of course,” muttered Crowley soft enough for only Aziraphale to hear.

The angel just shook his head slightly before holding out a hand to Rowan. Crowley was on her other side now, wings out, also offering his hand to the little girl. Lailah was the last to unfurl hers, another pair of white wings reaching upwards towards the sky. Rowan concentrated, her face screwing up with the effort, producing a set of unusual wings – white and black mottled, the colours blending into each other so her wings were almost like a beautiful streaked grey shade.

“They’re so small,” she commented comparing her own wings to the three giant pairs surrounding her. 

“They’ll grow with you, my darling,” assured Aziraphale. “Now can we even do this while holding her hands or are we going to end up hitting her on the down stroke?”

“I’ve never taught anyone to fly,” said Crowley. “Would it be better to have her climb a tree then leap into the air?”

Rowan giggled. “That’s funny, Daddy.”

“No, I don’t think that’s a good idea at all,” said Aziraphale hastily. “We’ll just have to be careful. Lailah, can you do me a favour and take off first so Rowan can see how it’s done?”

Lailah spread her wings, Rowan eying them with envy as she prepared to take off into the beautiful sky above. “Pay attention, sweetie. 

She gracefully pushed herself off the ground, her great wings beating impossibly as she lifted off the ground. Rowan watched, entranced as Lailah hovered there.

“Did you see what I did?” asked Lailah as she hovered at about treetop height above the other three. 

Rowan nodded, entranced, her eyes shining.

“Ok, let’s just do this,” said Crowley. “Sink or swim . . . it’s not like we’ll going to let anything happen to her.”

Aziraphale nodded. “Ready, my darling? One, two, three!”

And they leapt together, Aziraphale and Crowley sure in their movements, their daughter suddenly hesitant but gaining back her confidence once off the ground between her parents, who gave her confidence and encouragement. 

“That’s it, Rowan! Keep it up! We got you.”

“You’re doing wonderfully. Just remember to keep moving your wings.”

Rowan laughed, looking down below and excited to be in the air even though they remained around treetop level for this first flight. She had waited for this moment for a long time, practicing wing exercises, only getting a bit of lift off the ground while one parent or the other encouraged her, but neither would allow more than that. 

Lailah flew around them getting video that Crowley yelled she'd better be kept private off the cloud. She yelled back she’d be very careful with it. Rowan’s existence was an amazing and unique experience and she was able to be a part of it. Any photos and video she kept close to her heart. 

_Shall we take her higher?_ Crowley asked his husband. _She’s doing very well. A natural._ He sounded proud.

 _I’m reluctant to, but I’ll trust your judgment. You always were the better flyer,_ Aziraphale replied. _I might as well be a bumblebee._

_You’re more graceful that you think, beautiful angel of mine._

Aziraphale blushed at the compliment. He loved them when he received them and they were coming more often the more Crowley blossomed emotionally in the loving environment they had cultivated. He was seeing what the demon could truly become without Hell breathing down his neck, not realizing Crowley was seeing what he could become now that he believed in himself rather than Heaven.

“Want to go higher, Rowan?” asked Aziraphale.

“Yes!”

Keeping it prudent, Aziraphale only took them up a few more metres, but it was enough. Rowan laughed in delight, her wings flapping at twice the rate of her parents’. She had come a long way from the toddler who used to fly over baby gates. 

_Should I let go? Let her fly only holding your hand?_ asked Crowley.

_Is she ready for that?_

_Not like she’s going to fall, angel._

He let go, Rowan looking panicked for a moment then once realizing that she could bear her own weight on her own wings without two hands holding her, broke into a smile of pure joy. Lailah laughed with her while Crowley and Aziraphale smiled with pride.

So they soared, Aziraphale keeping hold of her, for about a half hour before a brisk wind picked up that blew Rowan’s light body around. Aziraphale signaled he was going to take her in for a landing. As he headed down with her, Crowley could hear him encouraging her to put her feet down so she could land vertically rather than ending up face-down in the dirt. Landing was executed nearly perfectly. 

“You did wonderfully,” said Aziraphale as he hugged her. 

“Yes, you did, kiddo,” said Crowley.

Lailah landed a second later with her own praise for the little girl. 

Rowan stood there, eyes shining and bubbling with excitement. “When can we go again?”

“Tomorrow if the wind’s not too strong,” replied Crowley. “Although since it seems to be strong around here a lot, we could drive to a calmer area in the middle of nowhere for lessons.”

“We could?” asked Aziraphale, who hadn’t been consulted on such things as of yet.

“We could?” asked Rowan in tandem with her angelic parent.

“Why not? She needs to learn this and I like taking the Bentley out to stretch its legs. It needs a run on highways once in a while.”

“But I was going to open the bookshop tomorrow,” said Aziraphale.

“Lailah and I can handle it if you want to work,” replied Crowley as he took Rowan’s hand and started to walk back to the cottage.

“Oh?” he asked.

“It’s not a bother. It is ok?” asked Lailah before following them.

“Yes, it’s all right then . . .” muttered the Principality. 

They had it all worked out and he’d just interfere, but he was still being left out, feeling resentful. Like they didn’t want to bother him because he had to run the bookshop. With a sigh, he followed after them.

The next morning those three were out the door to find a calm, deserted space to fly in while Aziraphale got ready to transport to London to open his bookshop. He had a shortened schedule these days, only opening it four days a week so he could spend time with his family. Although right now he was very much feeling like his family didn’t want to spend time with him.

Looking around the now-quiet cottage he left for London. Striding out from the backroom, he unlocked the front door and prepared for the day. He spent the morning thinking about it as he helped customers and arranged displays. Actually selling a book was still difficult, even if his precious collection was kept off-limits upstairs, but he was still determined to make the bookshop profitable. It was more honest than Crowley’s habit of wishing their bank account full.

“Excuse me, how much is this book?” asked a friendly-looking older woman, whose question brought him out of his thoughts and into the real world.

“Oh . . . yes . . .” said Aziraphale looking at the volume in hand. “Oh, that’s a new release so it’s thirty pounds. Very good book. I do so like that author.”

“She is one of my favourites,” the woman said. “I’m glad you have it in stock.”

He rang her up, going through the motions before falling completely back into his thoughts as two others in the bookshop browsed but left him alone. He sat at the till a book open before him but he really wasn’t reading it. His mind was wandering to how much he’d love to stay home more with Rowan. She was growing up and it wasn’t like they were hurting for money. But there was a twinge of guilt there. A great many humans didn’t have the luxuries they did. They had no choice but have one or both parents working to make ends meet.

“I just don’t know . . .” he muttered.

“You seem deep in thought,” commented a man who brought up a few books to purchase. 

Aziraphale smiled at him. “Yes. I’m afraid I’ve gotten too involved in some thoughts.”

“Happens to the best of us,” the man chuckled as Aziraphale gave him a total and he handed over his card. He gestured towards the open book on the counter. “Good stories are like that.”

Aziraphale simply nodded as he swiped the card, had the man sign and thanked him as he handed that mysterious little card back. He had no idea how credit cards worked, but he didn’t worry about it. Crowley took care of the business end of things when it came to banks and plastic money. He didn’t trust his husband with his taxes, of course. Crowley was still a demon and still enjoyed the occasional trick, but he could be trusted with matters of basic accounting because he wanted to help Aziraphale out with the business.

He closed up early, not having the desire to stay open any longer. Heading back to the cottage, he arrived to an excited Rowan who wanted so badly to talk to him about her flight and how Crowley let go of her hand so she was flying completely on her own. He sat there on the couch with her before dinner, which is when they usually read for a bit to keep her out of Crowley’s hair while he cooked. 

“That is so wonderful, Rowan,” he said while giving her a hug. “Can I fly with you next time?”

“Of course, Papa,” she replied. “I want to fly just you and me. I missed you.”

That made him feel a little better about the situation. 

Crowley had laid out five plates, Aziraphale noticed as he came into the kitchen to see how dinner was going and if he needed help. Aziraphale caught Crowley’s eye with a raised eyebrow.

“Raphael’s coming?”

“Yes,” replied Crowley in an exasperated tone. “I think he does it just to annoy me.”

He had made a Moroccan chicken stew for the occasion. Currently he was boiling rice to go with it before ladling it into bowls with a scoop of rice beside the stew itself. Slamming the lid on the pot of rice, he turned to Aziraphale to roll his eyes at the Raphael situation.

“It smells wonderful,” the angel said as he put aside his own complaints to give Crowley a hug and kiss. “So aromatic.”

“Thanks, I guess. I hope it puts Raphael off. She spends entirely too much time in his company.”

“She spends more in ours.”

“We don’t count. We’re her family.” Crowley checked the stew.

“And he’s a friend. They’ve been friends almost since they were created, Crowley. Of course she’s going to spend time with him,” replied Aziraphale.

“That doesn’t mean I have to,” muttered the demon.

“I’ll make it up to you later, all right?” Aziraphale soothed him further with light touches. “Do you need help with anything?”

“I forgot the wine glasses, but everything else is ready.” Crowley leaned against him, being someone who thrived on touch. “And choose a nice wine. You’re more of the wine expert than I. But not too nice. I don’t feel like sharing our best vintages with _him_.”

Aziraphale went with a Dönnhoff Riesling that Crowley was rather ambivalent about, so wouldn’t mind using for this dinner. He chilled it with a small miracle and put it on the counter where it would stay cool until it was drank.

Rowan wandered in, hungry. “When’s dinner?”

“Soon,” said Crowley. “We need to wait for Lailah and her friend.”

“Raph?” asked Rowan.

“Who else?” groused Crowley.

“Hush, my dear,” murmured Aziraphale.

A knock at the back door announced their arrival, Rowan running over to answer it.

“Hi, Rowan,” said Lailah, giving her a big hug as she entered. 

“Hey, kiddo,” greeted Raphael. “Hello, Aziraphale. Hey, Crowley.” 

Crowley seethed. “Kiddo” was _his_ pet name for Rowan. 

“Nice to see you again, Raphael. Come have a seat. Dinner’s ready,” said Aziraphale. “You both drink white wine, don’t you?”

“Yes, please,” answered Lailah. 

She and Raphael took seats next to each other as Aziraphale poured the wine and Crowley set bowls of stew in front of each of them. Rowan sniffed at it, forgetting her manners. Aziraphale gave her a sharp look to get her to sit up politely. 

He wasn’t in the mood for this. After his day thinking about how he was missing out on his daughter’s first experiences, he wasn’t remotely up for leading a small dinner party between friends, but he was going to have to. Crowley wasn’t going to be cooperative or friendly with Raphael around even though Raphael was extending the olive branch to both him and Aziraphale these days. 

“It is nice to see you again, Raphael,” he said as they all dug into their stew. “What are you up these days now that Heaven and Hell are no longer at each other’s throats?”

Cooperation for Aziraphale and Crowley’s trials after they aided in the failure of attempted Apocalypse had grown into a truce between the two sides. Both did their work without interfering with the work of the other side. It was essentially their own version of the Arrangement and it left Raphael without angelic patients to heal thanks to conflicts. He still got a few here and there. Cursed items still existed that could harm angels. Serious injury that would require his skills to heal happened on assignments. But those happenings were rare anymore.

“I’m out on assignments more,” he said. “Sometimes I use my healing skills on humans. It’s been quite the shift, but maybe it was one that needed to come.”

“Where were you when that plague was galloping around the globe about seven years ago?” muttered Crowley.

“We couldn’t prevent people from not practicing self-isolation or social distancing, but we did manage to keep it from mutating a few times,” replied Raphael without any malice.

The demon nodded politely without much of a sneer. 

_Tone it down, my dear._

_But he rubs me the wrong way._

“Why do humans get sick?” asked Rowan. “We don’t get sick.”

“That’s just how the Almighty made them,” replied Aziraphale. “Only angels and demons were made immortal.”

“That’s dumb.”

“Rowan, not at the table in front of guests,” scolded Aziraphale while Crowley hid a smile behind his wine glass.

“This is really good, Crowley,” said Lailah. “I’m rather glad you two finally tempted me into trying foods. I had no idea what I was missing out on.” She grinned.

Crowley smiled and winked at her. It was as close as he came to “you’re welcome”.

“I have to keep taking her out to eat when I’m down here,” joked Raphael. He was rather enjoying Crowley’s cooking, too, but knew better than to compliment him on it. The truce here was fragile.

Aziraphale laughed. Crowley’s spoon hit his bowl a little too loudly. 

_What did I tell you? They’re dating, angel._

_How many times did we have lunch together just as friends?_

_Lots and we ended up married._

_Calm down, my love. They’re not heading for the altar._

But Crowley sat there through the meal, seething and barely saying a word. Aziraphale was at the point of losing patience with him, anger building towards both his husband and Lailah that they had cut him out of Rowan’s first solo flight without even a thought towards how it would make him feel.

Coffee on the deck as the sunset wasn’t much better with Aziraphale mostly discussing things with Raphael while Lailah carried on a conversation with Crowley until the demon’s presence was requested at the swing by Rowan, who was feeling the need for attention. Crowley did very much appreciate the out before he snapped at Raphael, who insisted on asking him questions.

Eventually Lailah dragged Raphael off to go for a walk around the property and surrounding countryside, leaving Crowley to breathe a sigh of relief. He plucked Rowan off her swing.

“Time for bed, kiddo. Go tell Papa to read to you,” he said, sending her off to find Aziraphale while he cleared the mess from dessert off the deck’s glass-topped table.

Aziraphale seemed angry to him but he didn’t know why. Making note to ask him about it after Rowan was asleep, he did the washing up by hand for the sole purpose of taking up time. Scrubbing the dishes by hand in hot water that didn’t burn him on account of his demonic origins, Crowley tried to take out his pent-up frustrations at Raphael on food residue instead. It seemed more logical than remaining in a bad mood for the rest of the night.

In the sitting room, Rowan was choosing a book for Aziraphale to read to her, finally deciding upon _The Penguin and the Wallaby_. Eyes shining, she presented it to Aziraphale, seating herself beside him on the couch as he opened up the book to start reading. She snuggled in with her favourite blanket of warm coral fleece covered in white stars to listen raptly when he read to her, much to his pleasure. He had dearly wished she would love books as much as he did and it looked like his wish was becoming reality. 

“Can we go to Australia?” she asked as he finished up. “I wanna see wallabies. They have pockets on their stomachs.”

“You get your magic under control and we can go anywhere, my darling,” Aziraphale replied with a smile. “You’re getting there.”

She sighed. “We never get to go anywhere. Because my powers may cause problems.” Noticing some fuzz on her blanket, she plucked at it. “It’s boring here.”

“We can go to London this weekend.”

“London’s boring, too.”

“We’ll see, Rowan. Maybe it’s something that can be discussed.” Aziraphale got up to put the book away on the shelf. “Shall we tell Daddy good night?”

“Ok. Not tired.”

Unhappily she trudged into the kitchen where Crowley was drying the last of the dishes to say good night to him. Holding out her hands in a reluctant manner, she asked for a hug, her face registering her disapproval of bedtimes. Crowley smiled at her.

“I know.” He reached down to hug her. “Go get ready and we’ll tuck you in.”

“See?” she commented to Aziraphale as she passed by him on her way down the hall. “Even Daddy doesn’t like bedtimes.”

Aziraphale’s face arranged itself into its exasperated look. “Daddy slept for a hundred years once,” he muttered.

“Don’t you think for a second I didn’t hear that,” retorted Crowley but his tone wasn’t teasing this time. Aziraphale wondered what had gotten under his skin. Again. 

Crowley’s sensitive nature was currently rubbing him the wrong way. He went back to the sitting room to grab Rowan’s blanket without further interaction with his husband. Crowley threw his retreating back an irritated look before slamming the last clean pot onto its designated shelf in the cabinet.

“Enough with the childish temper tantrum,” snapped Aziraphale. “It’s only Raphael. You can learn to get along with others.”

He marched off down the hall to knock on Rowan’s door. She wasn’t ready, so he retreated to the master bedroom to wait. Crowley kept to the kitchen where he stayed until Aziraphale came back out to the sitting room to sit on the couch with a book and sulk.

“Why is Papa upset?” Rowan asked Crowley when he came to give her kisses. 

He leaned over the bed with its ladybug-and-leaf-covered comforter to give her a kiss on the forehead. “He probably just had to sell a book today. Don’t worry about it, ok? Good night, little one.”

“Night, Daddy.”

Wishing up a sound-proof shield on her door as he left, he headed back to the sitting room to confront Aziraphale. Plopping into the cream coloured chair opposite the couch, he stared down the angel until he put down his book and looked up at him, his sky blue eyes rather cold. 

“What?” Aziraphale asked tersely.

“I was going to ask you that.” Crowley sat back from his crouched position. He had been leaning forward with his arms resting on his knees, which had made him look like a predator about to ambush unsuspecting prey. “What has gotten into you?”

“As if you don’t know? Don’t play me, Crowley. We’ve known each other for too long for that,” the angel replied angrily. 

“No, I don’t,” said Crowley. “I can’t read your mind.”

_Try again, my dear._

_This is a mental link only. We can send thoughts to each other but I can’t read your mind through it._

“You just go and do whatever you want with Rowan without a single thought about my feelings on it,” burst out Aziraphale. “Did you not think I’d want to be there for her first solo flight?”

“But you were there for her very first flight and didn’t object when Lailah and I suggested it,” replied a confused Crowley. “You have to _say_ something.”

“I’ve missed out on so much. I wasn’t home when she took her first steps. She first smiled at you so I didn’t see that. You’re doing the lion’s share of the teaching. I’m up at London while you get to be with her all day,” fumed Aziraphale. “You get all the time with her and I’m just second best!”

Crowley held up a finger to stop him. “Don’t you martyr yourself, Aziraphale. You know very well that I would fully take care of this family financially even if you don’t have the stomach for it. We will never want for anything and really, we should be damn thankful for that. But no. You just _have_ to run that bookshop. Just to prove to yourself you can.”

“Crowley, please . . .”

“No, don’t. Just don’t. I’m not saying I don’t enjoy it here or spending time with Rowan, but it’s all I do! I went from living fast . . . attending parties, clubbing, going to art shows and concerts to stuck at home with a child. It’s been a shock and I miss getting out sometimes.” He stood up to pace the room, his long strides quickly taking him to the other side then back. “It shouldn’t feel like such a treat to get back up to London. To go take in a show or visit a pub . . . go dancing . . .”

“Well, if your daughter’s such a burden, I can start taking her up to the bookshop with me when I go.” Aziraphale’s tone was nastier than Crowley had heard in a very long time. He crossed his arms, turning away from the demon, spine ramrod straight as he sat on the couch.

Crowley raked a hand through his hair. “That’s not what I mean, Aziraphale, and you know it. You’re being ridiculous. It’s just that . . .”

“Poor little social Crowley can’t handle being a stay at home parent. I would give away a first edition for that.” Tears were forming in Aziraphale’s eyes.

“Aziraphale the martyr . . . Aziraphale the saint. He who can’t even communicate his wants and needs properly, but sure can mope when he doesn’t get his way,” mocked Crowley. “You don’t have to run that shop if your wish is to stay home. And you can open your mouth when you want to participate in some activity. Want to talk about lost time? I lost nearly two months of her life when I got so seriously sick after she was born.”

“You’re going with that?” scorned Aziraphale. “That’s hardly appropriate. You were in a coma for only two weeks and she was a newborn that barely did more than eat and sleep.”

“I’m out of here. You sleep on the couch. Or read until your eyeballs fall out. I don’t care.”

Crowley retreated to the bedroom, slamming the door behind him. Aziraphale wiped angry tears from his eyes before picking back up his book to resume reading it like nothing had happened. But it was extremely hard to make out the words on the pages when his eyes kept refilling with tears while his heart ached with the slights, both real and perceived. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m purposely being vague with Lailah and Raphael’s relationship because my only goal with her is to give her someone to be close to who’s not Aziraphale or Crowley so she didn't end up being some kind of third wheel as this story progressed. Someone she can be one-on-one with. If you want them to just be friends, then they’re just friends. Queerplatonic . . . that’s cool, too. If you want to ship them, go ahead and ship them. I will say I believe if they do have some kind of romance going, it’s asexual. Neither one of them fully understands or has a need for sex.
> 
> As for a description of Rowan's wings . . . have you ever seen a splash silkie chicken? That's what I imagine Rowan's wings looking like, only black instead of grey. And in normal angel/demon wing feathers, not fluffy silkie feathers. :) I had silkies a few years ago. Friendly funny little things. I miss them. Here's a reference picture of a splash. https://images.app.goo.gl/dzvNSCBkWFu3ebcU6
> 
>  _The Penguin and the Wallaby_ is a real book written by an internet friend and his wife. He asked me to plug the YouTube reading of their book any way I can. So this is me, plugging it. Go check it out if you have small kids or just like children’s books. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hFjeRCt5DUc


	18. Living Apart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The separation continues because a marriage between an angel and a demon who live similarly to humans can develop human problems, but God has taken notice. Does this mean the bad times are going to end soon?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hang in there, this is temporary. It's hard to write a story without conflict. 😉
> 
> And I accidentally published the unproofed copy, so sorry about that! This one should have less mistakes in it. I'm so embarrassed now.

Rowan looked up at both of them through sad blue-gold eyes, her fingers nervously twirling a lock of strawberry blonde hair into knots. “Why can’t we be a family?”

“Because it’s not working out anymore between me and your daddy. We need our space,” replied Aziraphale.

Crowley nodded, not trusting himself to even speak.

It had been a month and no progress had been made with their grievances. They barely spoke or even spent time in the same room. Crowley had taken to sleeping in the guest bedroom the same night Aziraphale found the demon’s wedding ring sitting abandoned on his nightstand. He had picked up the circle of black titanium embossed with a snake scale pattern and broke down crying. He didn’t tell Crowley how much the removal of his wedding ring had hurt him. Instead, he mournfully put it away in the small jewelry box he had to keep his cufflink collection in, thinking out of sight would mean out of mind. He was wrong.

Rowan would stay here with one of them. The other would go live in the flat above the bookshop in London. They would switch locations every other week. It was a bit confusing at first, but it was the best for everyone right now. What mattered was keeping Rowan at the cottage where her training could continue in a familiar environment isolated from human populations.

Lailah, stuck in the middle, tried her best to be neutral, but found it extremely hard in the face of their pride, puerile attitudes and downright stubbornness. She resolved to be a rock for Rowan because right now the child sorely needed one.

“Give me a hug and I’ll see you in a week,” he said, embracing her lovingly. “I love you, my darling.”

To her credit, she didn’t cry, but she was most unhappy with the turn of events. They had fought over her. It was her fault her family was breaking up. And she was too small to keep it from happening. 

“Love you, too, Papa.”

With a brave smile for her, Aziraphale stepped out the front door and transported to the bookshop. Once there, he walked sadly to his desk where he sat down to try to concentrate on paperwork. Unfortunately, his brain had other ideas. He thought of his now-broken family, wishing fervently everything could be whole again. Wretchedly he gazed upon the illustrated copy of the story of Adam and Eve he still had on the stand next to his desk. It was still open to the lithograph showing the two humans beside a tree with a Serpent in it. Reaching over he closed it. But that wasn’t enough for the embossed front cover announced exactly what was inside leaving him still with the reminder of their time together. In a fit of pique, he vanished the entire book to a back shelf upstairs where he’d never have to see it without making an effort.

~*~*~

Up in Her own portion of Heaven, God watched the breakup happening. She turned away from Her mirror as she saw Aziraphale sit as his desk, staring unseeingly at his paperwork while his mind was elsewhere. 

This was a delicate time in Rowan’s development so she did not need the stress of those two fighting. The Almighty sighed with frustration, turning back to Her mirror. It showed a static picture of Aziraphale and Crowley. Regarding it for a second, She extinguished its supernatural abilities with a thought, leaving a simple reflective surface that showed Her image staring back at Her.

“Those two need to realize they were made for each other,” She said. “Literally.”

“What are You going to do about it, Lord?” asked Raphael, who was standing beside God.

“I don’t know,” She replied. “I’m going to watch for now, but I’m not the all-seeing creature that everyone thinks I am, which is why I called you here. You’re down on Earth a lot anymore since your job has changed somewhat. Visit Lailah when you can, observe what’s going on, take a few notes and report back to Me.”

“Lord, I really don’t want to be in the middle of this. Can’t you just curse one of them or something?” Raphael asked. “Nothing’ll get those two back together faster than some tragedy. They come out with a stronger bond every time. I actually kind of admire them for that.”

“I cannot interfere with free will. You may go back to doing whatever you were doing before I rudely interrupted you. Sorry about that, but I felt this was important.”

“Not a problem, Lord.”

She smiled as he exited. With any luck, he’d be the one to take the action needed to get Crowley and Aziraphale to see the light. Pleased, She headed back to Her sitting room where She took up the crochet She was working on – a silvery-grey afghan done in a delicate shell stitch. Not that She needed another blanket, as She has crocheted several already, but She had yet to get the hang of more difficult things, like socks. 

The angels better watch out, She thought. If she learned to make socks, they’d all be wearing homemade pairs. Gabriel would look particularly dashing in a pair of lilac ones.

~*~*~

“Hey,” said Lailah as she approached Rowan who was seated morosely on the edge of the deck, picking apart a wildflower she plucked out of the grass by the beach. “What’s up?”

“Nothing.”

Lailah had watched the entire family become more depressed as they entered their second month of Crowley and Aziraphale’s separation. They both still loved and doted on their daughter but the strain of rotating parents and the fact the two of them were barely speaking to each other took its toll on her mentally. Lailah could barely get her to do anything with her anymore and Rowan was particularly snippy with both her parents. Crowley often got snippy back while Aziraphale tended to ignore it, chalking it up to the situation. It certainly needed to be addressed but not in the manner they were (or weren’t) addressing it. No amount of convincing on Lailah’s part would make either one of them see that simple fact.

“I miss Daddy,” she said. “This just sucks.”

“Yes, it does and I’m here if you need someone other than your fathers to talk to.”

“I’m ok. But I want them both here.”

“I know, sweetie.”

“They fought over me.” Rowan picked the last of the petals off the wildflower, letting them go into the breeze.

“No.”

“Papa was angry he didn’t get to see me fly and Daddy told him he needs to speak up,” Rowan replied sadly.

“That’s between them; it’s not you,” Lailah soothed, sitting down beside Rowan so she could give her some comfort. “Come here.” She held the little girl as close as she could. “Don’t you ever think this was your fault.”

Rowan hugged her back, but didn’t reply.

Inside Aziraphale was making a simple lunch; missing Crowley’s more advanced cooking and trying not to burst into tears again. He felt like all he ever did anymore was cry and when he wasn’t sobbing his heart out, he was trying his best to work up the motivation to do the tasks he needed to accomplish or spend time with his daughter.

He set three plates at the table laden with the sandwiches he had managed to put together. “Rowan! Lailah!”

Lailah brought Rowan in. “Go wash your hands.” She turned to Aziraphale. “Are you ok?”

“I’ll be fine.”

“No, you won’t. You’re struggling,” she replied. “You two need to talk.”

“There’s no need for that,” he replied. “It’s over. He’s never going to understand how raising her is more important than going to pubs.”

Lailah sat down, gesturing for Aziraphale to do the same. “We need to talk after lunch.”

She looked up as she heard running feet stamp down the hallway to the kitchen. Rowan slid into her chair, trying her best to appear cheerful for Aziraphale’s sake. She sensed that both her parents were depressed, stressed by the situation, so she kept herself happy in front of them as much as she could. Lailah knew what she was doing, not approving of a young child pretending such at the expense of her own emotions. 

She tried to keep talk light, but Rowan was famished from playing outside and Aziraphale just nodded as he picked at the sandwich in front of him, eating more for Rowan’s sake than anything. 

“After lunch we can do more lessons, Rowan,” he said to her. “Maths this time, then we can work on levitation of items. I think you’re old enough to learn that.”

“First, your father and I are going to talk,” Lailah interjected kindly but firmly. Aziraphale was not going to wiggle out of this. “You can go play outside some more.”

“Don’t you have pottery to work on?” asked Aziraphale pointedly.

Lailah had taken an interest in sculpture that had finally culminated into her breaking down and getting a potting wheel. She had made quite a few pots for Crowley to plant flowers in and decorative bowls for Aziraphale’s bookshop. Raphael also possessed a vase or two of her making in his office.

She glared at him. “I’d expect that question out of your husband, not you.” It came out cold enough that he was chastised into breaking eye contact to concentrate on his plate. She paled as she realized that she may have put a bit of her celestial power in it; she did outrank him. 

Rowan looked a bit frightened, bringing Lailah’s guilt to the surface. She was not here to scare an already emotionally fragile child dealing with the fallout of her parents not being on speaking terms. Smiling at Rowan, she tried to stammer out an apology.

“S’ok. We’re all angry,” Rowan said. 

Lunch was emotionally hard after that, but they got through it in one piece, more or less. It seemed like they, and the absent Crowley, were having every happy emotion slowly chipped away while enduring this bad time. Lailah prayed they saw how incredibly puerile those two were both being and reconciled for their sakes as well as Rowan’s.

After Rowan ran back outside to play for a bit while they talked, Lailah helped Aziraphale clear the table and do the washing up. It gave them that opportunity to talk that she wanted. He didn’t seem too receptive to it still.

“What Choir are you?” he asked before Lailah could start in on him.

“Does it matter?”

“It might. Nobody seems to know. Nobody has ever known. Why is it hidden?” His sky blue eyes nearly pierced her with the hard look he was giving her. “You used your celestial power on me at lunch. Don’t think I did not feel that.”

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to.”

“What are you?”

She gazed at him with worried apple green eyes. “You cannot tell anybody. Not Rowan, not Crowley, not anyone.”

He snorted as he handed her a dish to dry before fishing another one out of the sink. “I doubt I’m ever going to tell Crowley another thing.”

“I’m a Cherub.”

“ _What_?”

“A Cherub! I’m a Cherub!” She threw up her hands, making the towel she was holding twist erratically in the air. “God made me one and told me to keep that a secret after she pulled me aside to appoint me the angel of conception. She said I was to do great things and needed the strength to get through my trials. My original rank was Power.”

Aziraphale blinked, not sure what to say. He finally settled with, “She does work in mysterious ways.”

Lailah was of the second most powerful Choir. Aziraphale, a Principality, was of the Third Choir, with only the Guardians and the Messengers below him. “Archangel” wasn’t a Choir, _per se_ , like humans thought, but a title to denote those high-ranking angels, usually Cherubim or Dominions, who headed departments. The Seraphim were like CEOs who oversaw all the angels with the Cherubim who didn’t run departments acting as vice-presidents. 

“Don’t you dare treat me differently now that you know,” she growled at him as she picked up another plate to dry, rubbing the edge of it rather roughly before finishing toweling dry the rest of it with less tenacity. “But I will pull rank on you this one time if you refuse to talk to me about this ‘thing’ between you and Crowley.”

He had washed the last plate and pulled the drain plug on the sink. Shaking the suds off his hands, he reached for a hand towel to dry them on. To Lailah, he appeared to be mentally preparing to speak.

“I resent I’ve missed so much in Rowan’s life. Her first smile . . . her first step . . . the first time she fed herself . . . or drew a picture . . . I’ve been running the bookshop,” he said slowly like letting those words escape the confides of his mind was difficult. “And you two decided to take her for her solo flight without me. You didn’t even ask.”

“Aziraphale, we _suggested_ it. It was upon you to object once the idea was put out there. We can’t read your mind,” she replied gently as possible. “You’re being rather passive-aggressive. Now why can’t you just talk this over with Crowley so you two can learn to communicate better?”

Aziraphale swung an arm towards the table in an inviting gesture to sit. She vanished the towel before joining him. 

“I’m being passive-aggressive for wanting to spend time with my daughter? When he complained to me that he was tired of being here and rather go clubbing? That’s rich, Lailah. Why are you taking his side?”

“I’m not taking anyone’s side! I’m trying to look at what went wrong. His short temper and mouth didn’t help matters any, either,” she replied. “Is that better?”

“Marginally,” Aziraphale replied; a glint of stubbornness flashed in his eyes. “He said he’d rather be out enjoying the night life than be here with us. That cut deep, my dear girl.”

“You’ve known each other over six thousand years and you still have hiccups in communication? You two exhaust me,” she replied, wanting badly to lock them in a room until they worked it out. “It’s like this . . . Crowley’s spent his entire time on Earth living a very extroverted type of lifestyle. You know he likes being out in crowds having a good time. He was willing to partially give that up when he married you because he knows you’re more of the quiet type. But you two still got out and did things. He was still able to socialize and enjoy life outside of home. Understand?”

Aziraphale nodded. “I believe I do.”

Lailah paused, taking the time to collect her words. This was important. She had to convey it in a manner that made Aziraphale understand what Crowley was going through. 

“Then Rowan came along and things changed even more. He gave up almost everything for her and for you.”

“You make it sound like having a family is a sacrifice. It was a blessing. A rather convoluted one, but still one all the same.”

“It is,” Lailah replied, having followed many a family throughout the last six thousand years as she kept an eye on the souls she implanted into unborn babies. “It’s a wonderful thing to be part of a family I’ve learned, but it does involve sacrifice. Imagine if, upon finding out you were going to have a baby, something you never expected to happen to you ever, you had to give up your books. No more reading them, collecting them. Nothing. You had to spend every day devoted to the pregnancy.”

She paused allowing Aziraphale a few moments to process what she just said. She made eye contact with him and seeing he had no questions or comments, continued.

“Then once the baby was born, it was up to you to be the main caregiver, the one who was always home while your spouse went to work every day. On top of that, you fall ill, meaning you can’t even leave your home. Your spouse is there being supportive and all but still . . . you’re stuck in those four walls the entire time you’re sick. And you can’t even pick up a book to read because you had to give that up.”

Aziraphale looked down. “I suppose I would be going a little stir-crazy. But it’s not like he spent the entire time we lived in London in the flat. We went out on dates. He’d run errands while I was at work or come down to talk to me.”

“It’s not the same as being able to just jump in the Bentley and go wherever he wants. Imagine if you could only read at certain times and those times were rare. Pre-planned times when you had a babysitter and you couldn’t read as long as you wanted because there was a child waiting back home for you to get done reading.”

“But he has help. He has you and me.”

“He’s with her basically all the time, and if he’s not with her, he’s cooking for you two and sometimes me, or cleaning up messes, or doing the shopping. Why do you think he locks himself in that greenhouse every Saturday morning? Because he needs the time for himself and that’s the best he can get,” explained Lailah watching Aziraphale carefully.

“He is very lucky to be able to spend all the time he wants with Rowan.” It was still going over his head.

“Ok, I tried to be gentle about it . . . I tried to hint around but it’s not working,” sighed Lailah. “I’m going to be blunt, ok? Mostly because I care about you two and this refusal to see each other’s points of view is keeping you from forgiving each other.”

“I don’t want to forgive him. I’m fine.”

Lailah completely lost her patience, finding it hard to keep from grabbing him by the shoulders and shaking him while she yelled the obvious at him in hopes that it finally got through that thick layer of stubbornness to his brain.

“For God sake Aziraphale, wake up! Crowley is _your_ husband. He gave birth to _your_ child and you cannot brush him off because you think he’s living the dream as a stay-at-home parent when the truth is he’s feeling trapped. He can’t be with a demanding little being all the time. He _needs_ time to himself to do the things he enjoys, too.” Lailah was near shouting in her frustration, banging the table in anger, startling Aziraphale. “He’s going to burn out here soon and where will that leave Rowan? Having a child doesn’t mean you should give up every other pursuit that makes you, well, _you_. Everyone needs to recharge and _you_ get to. You go to the bookshop to read and socialize with customers. You eat at your favourite sushi place when you feel like it for lunch. You go to London several times a week while promising him you two will take a trip up there for the weekend. But you haven’t fulfilled that promise. You come back and take walks alone, sometimes go into town to antique while he’s doing the grocery shopping. Just because his chosen activities are not always quiet or easily done at home, it doesn’t make them less valid as ways to unwind. He can’t keep giving without getting something in return. Understand that or you’ll both lose him forever. Go give your daughter her lessons, cook for her, play with her, tuck her into bed, meet her every demand and do it alone without me to help you. Maybe a few days of that will teach you how frustrating it can be spending all day, every day with a child without a break.”

She got up to leave, shoving her chair roughly so it slid off the rug under the table and scraped along the wooden floor with a sound that made Aziraphale wince.

“Lailah. . .”

“I know it’s hard to overcome the brainwashing we received in Heaven – the idea that if you mess up, you cannot be forgiven. We had that drilled into our heads from the Rebellion on. Toe the line or Fall with them. Follow the rules or lose God’s love, but you know now it’s not like that.” She had tears in her green eyes threatening to fall onto her t shirt. “Those mandates didn’t come from God; otherwise you would have Fallen for loving Crowley. It’s time to forgive him for his transgressions. And it’s time to forgive yourself.”

She slipped out the backdoor, leaving him to his thoughts. Aziraphale was finding they weren’t comfortable ones to be having. Heaving a sigh, he took a few moments to compose himself before going out to get Rowan for her lessons. He was not going to have an easy time concentrating on that task.

~*~*~

Crowley sat at the bar of a nightclub, the music throbbing around him while the dancefloor lights flashed over the crowds of people drinking and dancing. The bartender handed him his drink which he took while nodding to her in thanks. Taking it off to the small social area filled with tables as well as a few more comfortable areas equipped with couches and armchairs, he chose an armchair in an empty area to sit down at. He was enjoying the night out without feeling the need to socialize, quite the odd scenario for him. He leaned his head back, closing his eyes.

He wasn’t alone for long as a young woman in a sleek purple mini dress who had probably drank too much planted herself in his lap, nearly spilling his drink. Crowley’s head shot up, his eyes opening in surprise at the tipsy woman mere inches from his face.

“Hey there, handsome. What’s with the sunglasses?” She had an arm around his neck now.

“The dancefloor lights get to me sometimes.” He carefully moved her arm away from his body. “There’s a couch over there you can sit on. It’d be more comfortable.”

His corporeal age was on the youthful side; Crowley was rather vain. Some of the humans in town would comment on Aziraphale’s “younger husband”, much to the irritation of Crowley. Aziraphale didn’t look more than a decade older than him.

“Why? I’m very comfortable right here.” She added a pretty little pout to her flirting hoping it would help.

“I have little interest in brunettes. Now shoo.” He got up, dumping her back on her unsteady feet before heading to a table where nobody could use him as a chair. Humans and their stupid mating rituals. 

He wondered about what it would have been like had he and Aziraphale had had to go through such a dance. Right now his mindset was if it weren’t for Rowan, it probably would have saved him a lot of time and trouble. Six thousand years wasted on an angel too rigid in his thinking to see Crowley’s point of view.

“You’ll have to forgive her,” said a voice. “She’s gets a little slutty and desperate.”

“It’s kind of rude to call someone slutty, don’t you think?” Crowley replied to the young man seated now beside him.

“It’s neither here nor there,” he shrugged. “You don’t strike me as her type. You strike me as more as gay. She didn’t get the slightest reaction out of you and that’s rare.”

“Eh. I think I fit more under the queer umbrella than anything,” Crowley replied, nursing his drink. It was hard to nail down your sexual orientation when you were technically genderless and shifted between various sexes and genders on a whim. “Why are you talking to me?”

“I like redheads.”

“How nice for you.”

“Interested?”

“I’d be robbing the cradle.”

“You don’t look older than thirty, if that.” The young man leaned in close, brushing a piece of Crowley’s hair off his forehead. “You’re telling me you wouldn’t like to go find a nice corner to have a snog in? Maybe after that you’d like to come to my place?”

He laughed at the drunken Cassanova, making sure his sharp eye teeth were very visible. It didn’t matter; fangs were one of those extreme body mods one saw around in the right venues every once in a while. “Be careful who you try to pick up. Not everyone is safe, you know. Can you imagine sticking your tongue in my mouth and encountering these?" He hissed slightly.

“You bastard!”

"Very much so and I'm pretty tame for what I am," Crowley replied offhandedly. “Keep it up and you’re going to come across somebody worse than me one of these days.” He downed his drink in one gulp and stalked out, suddenly missing Aziraphale for the first time since he removed his wedding ring.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My husbands have the corporeal ages that are implied in the book – Crowley’s apparently younger-looking while Aziraphale is older. 
> 
> As Mr. Young watches Crowley get out of the Bentley at the hospital, he’s described like this: “A large black car skidded to a halt by the dustbins. A young man in dark glasses leaped out into the drizzle holding what looked like a carrycot and snaked toward the entrance.” Then there's the burning bookshop -- "An extremely agitated young man in dark glasses got out and ran toward the door of the blazing bookshop." And of course there’s the whole “Young man, your car is on fire” scene in Tadfield with R.P. Tyler that’s nearly identical between book and show.
> 
> While there’s little physical description of Aziraphale in the book, we do get a sense of age from Madam Tracy’s comments after Adam separates her and Aziraphale at the airbase. “She looked Aziraphale up and down. ‘Oh,’ she said, in a slightly disappointed voice. ‘Somehow, I thought you'd be younger.’”
> 
> I’d give page numbers but all I had to go on when I wrote this was a proof of the American version that I really shouldn’t be touching because my partner would rather it sat on a shelf where nobody messed with it ever. (He collects first editions and proofs of Terry Pratchett's books; I collect houseplants. It’s ineffable.)


	19. Communication Attempts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _[Aziraphale] reached for the phone and dialed Crowley’s mobile._
> 
> _“What?”_
> 
> _“Hello, Crowley.”_
> 
> _There was a silence. Finally, “What do you want?”_
> 
> _“I . . . I just decided to call, that’s all.”_
> 
> Lailah and Raphael attempt to help the husbands but Aziraphale's phone call to Crowley might not be the best move to make.

Raphael peered out over the garden as he sat with Lailah in front of the guesthouse watching the growing plants gently sway in the slight breeze. He sipped a glass of brandy while Lailah stuck to her lattes.

“That bad, huh?” he asked.

“Yeah,” she replied.

“So, what are we going to do about it?” he asked.

“I have no idea. I’ve tried talking to Aziraphale, but he just does not see Crowley’s point of view at all.” Lailah sipped her drink in frustration. 

“I just have a feeling God wants me to throw a wrench in it but I’m at a loss as to how.”

“I don’t know how, either. I’m going to get up to London to talk to Crowley. Maybe he’ll be more reasonable.”

Raphael snorted. “You do realize you’re talking about Crowley, right? I think he’s the reason behind the redhead stereotype. He’s a walking temper tantrum when he’s slighted. He was even when he was an angel. I knew him when he was a starmaker . . . friend of a friend. Just as sarcastic then, but rather well-liked. He had an interesting sense of humour, but he sure didn’t like me.”

“I didn’t know either him or Aziraphale before the pregnancy. So what was Crowley’s angelic name?”

“That’s a little personal, don’t you think?”

Lailah smiled with a bit of a blush. “Yeah, well . . . I’m curious.”

“Honestly, I don’t know. He always was a tall skinny being and has these incredibly slim streamlined wings. He could crawl into the tightest places and get work done, the other starmakers said. They nicknamed him Crawly. They never called him by his real name and he never said it around me.” Raphael drank his brandy down to the last bit. “Odd bunch, though. Half of them Fell for asking questions.”

“That’s kind of eerily prophetic. He did become the Serpent. I thought he was called Crawly after he Fell because he had that snake form. Aziraphale said he never did like that name.”

“Well, it’s not very good as a proper name if you’re running around with humans and it probably brought back memories,” posited Raphael.

They sat a moment in the slight breeze, watching a flock of songbirds land the garden to pick seeds from the ornamental grasses Crowley grew. The sound of the waves lapping on the beach was the only noise until the flock started vocalizing with excited chirps. 

“What do we do?” Lailah finally asked.

“Keep an eye out for opportunities to get those two dorks back together. I am due to sneak a peek at a new medical lab that’s being built for the students at the University of Cardiff. I’m tempted to take Aziraphale along and get him out of these surroundings. It might help his state of mind and make him more receptive to Crowley’s point of view.”

“It’s worth a shot. How long? We can’t leave Crowley with Rowan for too long. We’d just be putting him back in the same situation.”

“Oh, a couple of days at the most. I’m going on Monday and that’s Aziraphale’s off week, so no problems.” Raphael finished up his brandy. “To be honest . . . I don’t know how anyone can love that demon. He’s a pain in the ass. Aziraphale must be a saint.”

Miracling the glass clean and put away in the kitchen cabinet, he stood up to offer Lailah a hug. She took him up on it, giving him a tight squeeze. 

“Thanks for cleaning up. And I’ll think on it because it can’t keep going on like this. They’re miserable apart.”

“I agree with that,” he replied. “I’ll give you a call tomorrow?”

“Sure. I’m free since I told Aziraphale he can handle Rowan on his own for a few days. Hopefully it’ll bring him to his senses.”

“It’s Aziraphale. You’re going to have to hit him over the head, tie him to a chair and repeat your point over and over for years to get him to see it. See you later.”

With a snap of his fingers, he took himself back up to Heaven. 

Lailah first cleaned up her latte before getting out her phone, which she looked at thoughtfully for a moment before she chose to swipe it on. Going into her contacts she pulled up Crowley’s number. Dialing it, she let it ring until the voicemail picked up but she didn’t leave a message. Crowley was probably pouting and didn’t want to answer it.

It was time to go talk to the demon and discover if he finally was seeing things from Aziraphale’s point of view. Snapping her fingers, she took herself to London, transporting directly into the closed bookshop. It was still afternoon, therefore; she was unsure if Crowley was around or if he was out doing whatever he did when he was up here alone during Aziraphale’s scheduled time with Rowan. She would wait until he came back if he was out.

She knocked on the door to the flat. “Crowley? You in there?”

After a minute, he pulled the door open. “What are you doing here?”

“We need to talk.”

He gestured for her to come in, sighing with a roll of his eyes. She entered and seated herself on the couch looking up expectantly at him. Acting like it was an inconvenience, he sat himself in the chair, glaring at her. He conjured up a drink, a glass of whisky from the looks of it, without offering her a thing. Lailah stared at him and played the same game, miracling up a glass of ice water.

“What about? Because I’m in no mood to discuss Aziraphale.”

“You’re miserable without him and vice versa. Except you both are too stubborn to admit it.” Lailah glared hard at him. “Get your shit together, Crowley.”

He jabbed a finger at the door. “Get out unless you’re going to talk about another subject. That one is off limits.”

“Crowley . . . please . . .”

“Please what? He’s being a bastard about this. I work hard and I don’t get breaks like he does. I don’t get to head up to London several times a week or get away from Rowan. I’m Dad. That’s it, but I need more.” He stood up and downed his whisky. “This isn’t what I was expecting from my existence. I love that little girl, but she can’t be my entire life. I’ll completely lose my identity.”

“I understand that and I’ve been trying to get Aziraphale to understand it as well,” Lailah replied gently. “He’s jealous of the time you get with her.”

“He doesn’t have to run that bookshop.” Crowley was standing by the window, staring out over the street below, watching the pedestrians walk by on their way to God knows where. A car honked at another as it almost collided with it, both in a rush. He turned back to Lailah. “Despite being a hedonist, there are times he just doesn’t understand the needs of the individual. He probably thinks I’m being selfish not wanting to give one hundred and ten percent to Rowan all the time. Nobody can give anyone that.”

The demon began to pace in his frustration. The plants trembled slightly as he passed on by them; Crowley didn’t notice. Staying where she was, Lailah simply watched him work through his agitation by burning off excess physical energy. 

“And if I can get him to agree to sit down and discuss the issues with you?”

Crowley walked to the kitchen where he meant to place the empty whisky glass in the sink, his hand tightening on it to the point it started to crack. Getting control of himself, he set it gingerly down and repaired the damage. His voice came short and clipped when he chose to respond to Lailah’s question.

“You won’t. He’s too fucking stubborn.” He gazed at her over the breakfast bar, his golden yellow eyes carrying a solemn look. “The last time we were this angry at each other, it took the potential end of the world to get us back together. No talks. No apologies. Just his discorporation and the airbase at Tadfield. We never brought it up after that. So if you can arrange a shit-is-going-to-hit-the-fan moment, then he’ll see reason. Otherwise . . .” The demon spread his hands in a grand gesture as melodramatic as his speech.

“Do you miss him?”

“Yes. To the point I can’t stay here. I have to transport directly into the flat because I can’t walk through that bookshop anymore. It kills me. I’m going to have to find my own place.” 

He came back out to sit down again, curling up in the couch like a person lost, his long legs tucked up beneath him as if he were trying to make himself smaller somehow. Lailah looked at him sitting there miserably; she cleared her throat before speaking again.

“I thought since tomorrow was the day you guys swapped places, maybe we could all meet and talk, but you two are so lost when it comes to communication. So far apart I don’t know how to get you to see each other’s points of view.”

“Chalk it up as a gallant effort and let it go, Lailah. We’re all going to have to get used to a new normal.”

Sadly she thought he may be right, at least for a while. This could not go on indefinitely; they had been created as pair and permanent separation would have serious consequences to their very souls. 

~*~*~

“But it’s Cardiff,” Aziraphale was saying as he served Raphael a cup of coffee, trying not think about how it was normally Crowley who would sit on that ancient couch across from his desk. "I haven’t been there in ages and I really don’t know my way around.” 

He didn’t go into the flat anymore; the memories there were just too painful. He was back to his old habits of residing strictly in the bookshop like he did before Crowley moved in with him. The cottage was bad enough at times, but that couldn’t be helped.

“Sitting around here all the time or down at the cottage is eating away at you. A couple of days away will do you good,” said Raphael. “I can do the blessings I need to. You can look around town. I’m sure they have antique shops and second-hand bookshops. You need to get your mind off things for a while. Take a break.”

“Well, all right.” Aziraphale was still unsure about it. He really hadn’t gone out of town without Crowley since they were both kicked from their jobs, trips to London to run the bookshop not included.

“Anyway, now that that’s settled, what have you been up to lately? It’s been a while since just you and I talked.”

Having been up to little more than moping, trying to get the energy to do the tasks he needed to do and taking care of Rowan with a generous amount of help from Lailah thanks to his depressive state, Aziraphale gave him a weak smile in response.

“Oh, not much, really.” he said. “Just the usual.”

“A good reason to go to Cardiff then,” grinned Raphael. He got up and motioned Aziraphale to his feet. “And a good reason to go to lunch. C’mon. Let’s find a pub where they serve fish and chips. Lailah keeps telling me how good they are.”

He walked out with a grin thrown back at the Principality.

“But . . . I . . .” Aziraphale gave up and meekly followed him out.

~*~*~

Crowley paid for the bundle of tomatoes and stuffed then in the cloth bag he brought along with them to the farmer’s market. Taking Rowan’s hand, he walked with her to the next stall which sold basil along with other fresh herbs he used in his cooking. She was munching on a pastry he had purchased for her several stalls ago when her hunger started to make her angry and fidgety. 

“Last stop, I promise,” he said. “I just need herbs.”

“Ok. Can we eat at the café?”

“Sure, why not?”

Rowan smiled up at him, the blue of her eyes reminding him painfully of Aziraphale’s. He gave a forced pleasant smile back and got on with looking for good bunches of herbs while thinking it was about time to plant a kitchen garden. Running with that, he lost himself in thoughts of layouts, from using raised beds to planting edible things intermingled with ornamental plants to beautify it. He didn’t realize he was simply standing there staring at a bundle of Italian parsley he was holding until Rowan tugged on his jacket.

“Daddy, are you ok?”

“Umm? Oh yeah, just thinking a new garden. Vegetables and herbs. I’ll let you help me plant it.”

“Can we plant some pink flowers in it? Everything you plant is dark.”

Crowley preferred somber colours and had an entire bed devoted to nothing to but plants that either had black foliage or flowers. Pinks and yellows were generally not tolerated in his flower beds and white was used sparingly. He sighed. 

“Ok, fine. You can plant some pink flowers.”

Unlike her parents – one who preferred neutral tones and the other who favoured a funeral palette – Rowan dearly loved bright colours. Blues, purples, pinks, greens, reds and oranges. It didn’t matter as long as they were riotously lively and cheerful. Her bedroom was an eye-watering assortment of the brightest blues, oranges and purples one could find and her wardrobe made Crowley wish he still wore the sunglasses on a regular basis.

Crowley was getting change back from his herb purchases when Rowan tugged at his elbow again, looking down at her with a cocked eyebrow he saw she was twisting the napkin her eaten pastry had been nestled in suggesting she had something to say. Like a question to ask that might yield her the answer of “no”. She had definitely picked up some of Aziraphale’s mannerisms. 

“Yes?”

“Can we go flying instead?” she whispered. “I’m not that hungry.”

The mention of flying went straight to Crowley’s heart like an arrow on a medieval battlefield. Flying was what had caused their current predicament. What he wanted to do most right now was forget that he ever had wings, but he understood where Rowan was coming from. He remembered being a newly-created angel and how exciting it had been exploring Heaven on the wing. How could he deny her the chance to fly even when anymore his preferred mode of transportation was the Bentley?

“Sure. It’s not that windy out so we have a good day to do it. But only for about half an hour or so. I do have work to do with the pear trees.”

“Ok.”

Back at home they were in the air, Rowan a little wobbly still on her wings and nowhere near the ability to do acrobatics like Crowley loved but she laughed to watch him do them especially since Aziraphale was more of a straight-forward flyer and wings were merely a way to get from here to there before he came to Earth and humans evolved better ways of getting around. 

Spinning in loops, Crowley entertained her as she flapped there beside him, learning how to keep height and speed on those tiny wings of hers. True they had been smaller when she was younger, but they still looked so out of place when all he was used to seeing was the giant wings of adult-sized angels and demons. He had primaries that were as long as he was tall; Rowan’s were barely longer than his arm. But they kept her in the air and that was what was important.

Finally she had her half-hour or so of flying and they headed down to the ground once again so Crowley could work in the orchards. She chose to swing for a while then search out Lailah who had just gotten back from checking on a few pregnancies. She was more lax about her job these days but still kept an eye on a handful of unborn here and there. 

Crowley headed to the pear trees to do battle with the worms eating at his developing pears. It would be so easy to just miracle away the bugs, but somehow that had become less satisfying. There was something to be said about winning the war with organic pesticides rather than snap of his fingers. He lugged a sprayer of it to the orchard.

 _What the hell is going on?_

He removed some small dead branches from one tree.

_We’re having human problems, like breaking up and pondering divorce. We’ve gone native, that’s what._

Well, that was a line of thought he didn’t want to go over yet again. Time to move on. He should really be looking for his own place next week when he was in London. It was time. Aziraphale was never going to come around and he couldn’t keep going to the bookshop. He still had his old flat, even if he had leased it out. It would be no trouble at all to use a demonic miracle to convince the current tenant to move to greener pastures. Or whatever. As long as they vacated so he could move himself back in.

He tried to concentrate on spraying pears instead of his living arrangements. Crowley was heartily tired of his separation from Aziraphale eating up most of his waking moments and quite a large slice of his dreams. That needed to stop or he’d never heal. 

There. Trees taken care of. Taking his supplies back to the gardening shed, he headed inside to start dinner although these days cooking did not hold the joy for him it once did. There was something special about cooking for Aziraphale – the way he appreciated and enjoyed every dish Crowley made for him. The angel was very much the poster child for the human idiom “the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach.” Now was that an American saying or an English one? Crowley couldn’t recall as he stood there staring at the cooker wishing he’d see that blond curly head come through the door with a kiss for him and a question about what was for dinner.

Suddenly, he wanted to order take-out.

~*~*~

Cardiff was not that much different from any other town in the United Kingdom when you came right down to it, decided Aziraphale. He stood in the middle of a plaza of some kind staring at a tall metal water fountain that some of the locals apparently called “Torchwood Tower” after some television show. He was thinking Crowley would appreciate it more than he did. It was kind of modern when he preferred the art made in centuries gone by.

He was alone; Raphael having gone to do whatever it was he needed to do at the new medical lab. Aziraphale looked for a bus stop to take him somewhere, anywhere away from art. A bookshop. A café. A clothing shop would do at this point. Someplace he could go . . . wait, they did have a castle here . . . and the bay looked enticing partially because it was nearby. There were several cathedrals he could visit and apparently he just had to try Welshcakes according to Raphael.

Aziraphale did admit it had been a few centuries since he had been in Cardiff and the changes had come as quite the culture shock. Feeling peckish, he opted to find a bakery that offered Welshcakes or something else he’d find scrumptious. Heading out of the plaza, he looked around for something . . . anything where he could get the suggested pastry. Finally he got on a bus heading off to a different part of the city where he found what he was looking for. 

Returning to the bay with a discreet miracle, he decided to watch the gentle waves on the water as he munched his Welshcakes finding them quite tasty. At lot went on here and he could sense the history all around him as he ate quietly. Brushing the crumbs off his hands, he wondered what to do with himself. The cathedral held a bit of interest; he had forgotten its name but he remembered stopping by on his way through centuries ago when it was being built. He wondered how it had held up. Apparently well if people were still allowed to visit it.

For now he strolled along, not really feeling up to heading there just yet. The ocean reminded him of home. Of the cottage and Rowan. He tried not to let his thoughts turn to Crowley. He was here to clear his mind, not think about his estranged husband. 

Maybe being near water wasn’t the best thing after all. Searching his mind, he tried to come up with the name of the cathedral here he had seen during its birth. Thousands of years of memories could be a bit of an annoyance at times. Sometimes the thing you wanted was buried so deep it took a lot of mental digging to bring it to the surface. 

Llandaff Cathedral, that’s what it was. Now, how did he get there? Sighing, he wandered off once again to find a bus. This would be so much easier with a car. Maybe it was time to learn how to drive. What a thought! He chuckled at it. Him! Behind the wheel of an automobile? That just seemed so ridiculous!

Eventually he did find his way to the cathedral. Staring up at it from across the street, it looked different from what he remembered.

“It was in the middle of construction, you silly old thing,” he muttered to himself. “Of course it’s not going to look the same.”

Neither did the landscape, which now contained modern buildings. It all seemed strange. Too strange and he wished it was time to meet Raphael at the rendezvous point. He was no longer used to traveling alone plus sightseeing by himself no longer held the interest for him it did in the past.

Suddenly Aziraphale just wanted to go lie down on the bed in his hotel room to have a nap. His excitement for life had mostly left him, but he suspected this was part of the reason Raphael insisted he come with. It was well-meaning, but pointless. 

Deciding he couldn’t stand outside staring at the cathedral forever without looking like someone who was planning something malicious, Aziraphale walked over to it, went inside and sat in a chair in the back, using his powers to make it so nobody would notice him as he looked over the lovely gothic features of the building. It was amazing humans who weren’t that technologically advanced could build such a monumental thing that could stand the test of time.

They might not live long, but they build such immortal monuments. He suddenly felt timeworn.

Having missed the rendezvous, Raphael found him later in his hotel room in bed with the comforter pulled up almost over his head. He had had to let himself in because Aziraphale didn’t even respond when he knocked. The Archangel opened the door to an almost completely dark room with curtains drawn and an Aziraphale-shaped lump lying curled up under the blankets.

“Aziraphale, no. You cannot be doing this. It’s not healthy at all for you. C’mon. Time to get up and we’ll go get some food.”

“Just let me be.”

“Did you get out today?”

“Yes, but I decided it was not worth it.”

“For Heaven’s sake, just call him. This is ridiculous, you know.” Raphael plopped the room’s phone on the bed. “You two would rather be fucking miserable than talk. I’m through . . . seriously, I’m fucking through. I can’t even right now. I’m going to get something to eat then I’ll be back in my room if you decide to end your little pity party.”

Aziraphale heard the door slam but took no further action for a period of time. Finally he reached for the phone and dialed Crowley’s mobile.

“What?”

“Hello, Crowley.”

There was a silence. Finally, “What do you want?”

“I . . . I just decided to call, that’s all.”

“From where? You’re not in the bookshop.”

“Cardiff. Raphael decided I needed some time away.”

“Oh, _you_ need some time away . . . What about when _I_ needed time away? Like a trip to London . . . a city I hadn’t been to in months. Wait . . . I’m supposed to be grateful I get to spend all my time here at the cottage. Sorry, forgot my place.”

Aziraphale’s temper flared. “If you want to go somewhere, be my guest. You’re free to go to whatever city you wish, visit the nightclubs of your choice and whatever else you do. If you really want to, feel free to take the human of your choice back to your bed. Maybe it’ll make you feel better since family life is getting you down.”

Silence. Aziraphale could hear Crowley breathing hard, a sign his own temper was about to burst forth, but it didn’t. Instead, the response he received was cold. “I think I just might do that.”

Terror rose in Aziraphale’s chest as he realized what he had just said, what he had just done. Raw panic followed the terror, fluttering around inside him as his temper slunk away, job done. He had just ruined everything. “Crowley, I’m sorry! I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to say such hurtful things. Forgive me?”

It was too late. Crowley had hung up. Aziraphale shoved the phone onto the floor, flinging himself on his pillows where he sunk into a deeper depression than before. Eventually his energy returned and he decided to take action. When Raphael returned from getting a quick bite to eat, he found the room empty.


	20. Come Together

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crowley and Aziraphale, with a little help, start back on the road to reconciliation.

Crowley had spent the evening in various alcohol-serving establishments in the coastal city he thought might be called Brighton or something similar but wasn’t sure. Wherever he was and whatever he was doing wasn’t exactly thrilling him. He wasn’t going out for his own amusement, but to show up Aziraphale. 

Right now he was in some flat somewhere in the nicer parts of the city, his shirt off, his hands running through the hair of an equally shirtless young man who was enthusiastically kissing him. He was quite the handsome-looking young man with a quick wit to back up those looks and Crowley thought maybe taking him to bed would be a salve to his ego, a smug conquest to throw in Aziraphale’s face. Instead, he might as well have been making out with his own pillow for all the excitement he was getting out of this. Equally annoying was that load of guilt he was carrying around like a pack mule.

He pulled back, removing the young man’s tongue from his mouth in the process. His temporary partner looked at him in surprise, tracing a finger over Crowley’s collarbones.

“Is something wrong?” he asked. 

“Yeah,” said Crowley. “I just can’t do this. Why don’t you go take a nice cold shower? By the time you’re done, you’ll have forgotten I was ever here.”

The young man’s eyes glazed over. “Ok.” 

He rose off the couch, heading off in the direction of the bathroom. Crowley watched him go while he picked up his shirt to throw back on. Grabbing his tie and coat, he slipped quietly out the door.

Lailah peered out the kitchen window upon hearing the Bentley’s engine as it approached the garage. It was barely eleven o’clock. Usually Crowley was out until much later than that the nights he went drinking. The back door slammed as the demon entered looking extremely distressed with mussed hair and carrying his tie and jacket.

“Crowley? What’s wrong?”

He looked at her with dull defeated eyes. “Aziraphale called and we got into it.” Laying his jacket across the back of a kitchen chair he sat down. “He told me that if I wasn’t feeling like the family type to go clubbing and find some one-night-stand to pick up. So, I did.”

“Oh, Crowley . . .” said Lailah. “Tell me it didn’t go anywhere.”

“No.” He leaned his elbows on the table, his hands in his hair. “We kissed, took our shirts off, and then I got dressed and left. It didn’t feel right. I was going to do it to show up Aziraphale.”

“You still went too far,” said a numb shocked voice from the kitchen’s doorway.

Crowley rose from the table, the guilt etched on every line of his face. Lailah clutched the back of the chair she was standing behind, the look on her face one of absolute worry. She turned from Aziraphale to Crowley, then back to the Principality.

“Aziraphale . . . when did you get here?” she asked.

“Long enough ago to hear your confession.” Aziraphale was hurting; Crowley could hear it in his voice. 

The demon was beside him in an instant. “I’m sorry, angel. I was just so angry I wasn’t thinking.”

Aziraphale was heading down the hall, Crowley on his heels. The angel turned angrily to him, his blue eyes colder than Crowley had ever seen them. There was no sky blue to them; this was pure ice. He recoiled slightly to see that level of anger.

“Angel?”

“I do not think this is a good environment for Rowan right now. I’m taking her for a few extra days while you get your head screwed on straight. I’ll bring her back for your regular visitation. When you said we needed to protect her from demonic influences, I didn’t think you’d be one of them.”

“Aziraphale, angel . . .” Crowley was near tears. “Please . . .” Then suddenly he was made of steel. “Fine, take our child, run off and pout if you think your spiteful angelic influence is so much better. She’s back here in a week or I’ll complain to a higher authority.”

Aziraphale glowered at him as he snapped his fingers. The angel disappeared and Crowley knew he wouldn’t find Rowan in her bed. Falling to his knees, his anger dissolved and he wept with his head in his hands until Lailah knelt in the hallway with him, holding him until he cried himself out. 

Now what were they going to do? She feared now things were very much beyond repair. She and Raphael had failed. Did she dare ask God to take an active interest in the situation now or was that not even an option?

~*~*~

“This is exactly what needed to happen,” said God to Lailah as She served them both coffee in Her cottage’s kitchen.

Lailah blinked as if she weren’t hearing the words correctly. “I’m sorry, Lord, but things have hit absolute rock bottom. Aziraphale took Rowan and is nowhere to be found. Crowley’s spent the last few days drunk off his . . . well . . . butt.”

“Aziraphale’s waiting in Eden until I get Crowley up here. He needed a reminder. A check on his attitude, but that one always was stubborn and prone to closed-mindedness while digging in his heels. But it’s all coming along nicely. Cookie?” God offered her a plate with several varieties including chocolate chip and snickerdoodles. 

Lailah took a couple to be polite. “I don’t follow.”

“I saw this as the path that would get those two back together. Raphael was right when he said nothing would get Aziraphale and Crowley back together quite like a tragedy. All I could do was point him in the direction of inviting Aziraphale to Cardiff, hope the phone call happened and everything fell into place.” God replied as She stirred several spoonfuls of sugar in Her mug. “Rowan’s well-being is now in danger and she’s the one entity besides Me who can tear this universe apart. I can step in now to protect My interests, so to speak, not that she’d destroy the universe, but I just can’t take that chance, can I?” God smiled slyly at her. ”It’s a bit of a loophole in the whole free will rule and I’m sorry I have to let my boys go through such misery to exploit it. I think it’s high-time I sat down and taught those two how to communicate like a married couple should. It’s obvious it’s not going to happen on its own.”

“So, what’s the next move, Lord?” Lailah asked as she brushed cookie crumbs off her fingers. 

“You’re going to go get Crowley to sober up and bring him up here to My cottage. I will take him to Aziraphale and play referee. But we have coffee and cookies to consume and a half-hour longer is not going to irreparably damage anything. I want to know how you’ve been doing.”

“Umm . . . uh,” stammered Lailah with a bit of a blush at being put on the spot. “I’ve been rather busy thanks to this whole separation mess . . .”

~*~*~

Crowley had taken up residence in the cottage’s guest room and hadn’t been out for days, all of which he had spent drunk lying in bed, occasionally refilling the bottle of scotch he had when needed. He lay sprawled on the bed sleeping off his latest binge right now. When he awakened from his binges, he’d start the next one. If he admitted it to himself it was the same pattern he followed after checking out the Spanish Inquisition.

Lailah walked in to the strong smell of alcohol in the dark room. Walking briskly to the window, the first thing she did was throw open the curtains. Next she pulled the bedcovers off of Crowley and when that didn’t wake him, she hit him hard with a pillow. He stirred slightly, batting ineffectively at Lailah’s further attempts to rouse him, which involved outright punching him in the arm.

“Get up, get sober and make yourself presentable. The Almighty wants to see you.”

“So Mom’s meddling again?” he mumbled into his pillow where he lay face-down.

“Just get up. I’ve been sent to fetch you. You can transport directly into the old cottage in God’s section. You know, the one you were healed in? You have ten minutes. Don’t get me in trouble.”

She popped out, going up there herself to wait in the cottage’s sitting room for him to appear. He showed up fifteen minutes later, much to her annoyance, smelling like alcohol and dressed like he hadn’t changed clothes in several weeks. It was probably lucky he wasn’t actually carrying a bottle of scotch with him. Lailah gave him a disdainful look.

“Grow up.”

“Can’t. I was never a child.”

“It’s your funeral,” Lailah retorted angrily before storming off.

In the garden she caught up with God, who raised Her hand. Lailah had been about ready to speak, shut her mouth.

“I know and I know the state he’s in. I’ll deal with it. Thank you, Lailah. I know this isn’t easy. Go have a nice visit with Raphael. You did the best you could, but apparently I need to handle it now. You've done a great job looking out for them.”

Crowley was lying on his back on the couch in the living room when God walked in, gesturing for him to get up. He gave Her a miserable look before heaving himself drunkenly to his feet to stand before Her. 

“Sober up and do something about your clothes or I will,” She told him in a tone that told him She was not going to take no for answer and it was in his best interest he do it himself because it wouldn’t be pleasant if She had to. 

He snapped his fingers, wincing slightly as his drunken state evaporated along with the alcohol in his bloodstream. Now all he could do was stare at Her through golden amber eyes and feel embarrassed, but he could not hold Her gaze long before he found himself needing to look down at his own shoes. 

“I don’t want to be here.”

“I don’t want to have to keep interfering, but there’s love and a child’s well-being at stake. Now sit down, we’re going to have a talk. Enough is enough.”

Crowley sheepishly sank back down on to the couch.

~*~*~

God gave Aziraphale the Garden to wait in; the Garden he was supposed to protect from harm all those years ago and ended up doing an exemplary job at despite evidence to the contrary. He would have rather waited with Rowan in the cottage up here, but he was convinced the Almighty was trying to prove a point. He was determined not to get it.

Eden changed him because there was only one thing he could be in the Garden and that was the Angel of the Eastern Gate. His wings had manifested and he had to fight to keep his clothing from switching from his comfortable waistcoat, shirt and trousers look to the white robe he wore back then. Some instincts were strong. It had changed Rowan, too. She was not only thrilled, but very much at home in a place where her wings were always visible. 

She was exploring everything from trees to plants to the animals who still resided here. It was probably her one chance to meet lions who weren’t a threat to her safety. Aziraphale let her play and fly as she wished while he cooled his heels waiting. He wondered how long he had been here. He knew it had only been hours at most but it felt like days.

Right not he sat on the grass by that infamous Tree staring forlornly at the permanent trail in the grass left by a snake-shaped Crowley making his way up to the wall where Aziraphale had stood that fateful day that had a domino effect on the world itself. Standing up, he plucked an apple from the Tree’s branches to examine carefully, its perfect ripeness something to behold.

All the symbolism in this one piece of fruit. He and Crowley were forever tied to it and the Tree it came from. A piece of fruit that would have caused no change in them had either of them eaten it, but two bites had given humanity free will and thus changed angel and demon in indirect ways. They had no free will before Eve grabbed one off the branches for her and Adam to sample. Afterwards, they both were stationed on Earth where they slowly picked up human traits over the long years. And you cannot hang around humanity for the amount of time they had without collecting bits of free will here and there. 

His thoughts turned to the Serpent who had offered the apple and the promises that went with it. Aziraphale slowly realized he wasn’t keeping his own promises made to Crowley when they exchanged rings over seven years ago. He wasn’t being fair. He said hurtful comments, didn’t understand Crowley’s needs and wants, and now he had been summoned by God he assumed for some kind of dressing down since She had taken a personal interest in both of them since Rowan’s dramatic birth. 

_Be completely humble and gentle; be patient, bearing with one another in love._

He certainly wasn’t being any of that over these long months, was he? He was busy trying to fit Crowley into a little box he had defined as appropriate and lashing out when Crowley had other ideas. And Crowley had a right to other ideas when it came to what he needed to keep his own well-being healthy. Aziraphale should have realized that before everything came to a head. 

Carefully he placed the apple in the grass along side the tree. Looking up he saw Rowan bending over inspecting a couple of mice standing on a rock while they inspected her right back. Behind her in the distance two figures approached, one wearing a veil, one with red hair. He stood up to get a better view.

“Daddy!” cried Rowan running to Crowley. 

He bent to hug her while God kept walking towards Aziraphale. 

“Let them have some time,” She said to the angel.

“Of course, Lord.”

“When you two do talk, I don’t want you arguing with him. You will listen to him for a change and not judge what he has to say until he has said everything. I’ve already told him to knock it off with the sarcasm and temper. It’s high time you two learned how to really communicate.”

“I don’t know if I’m ready for this.”

“You’d better be. Your whole marriage depends on it,” God admonished him. She took a seat indicating he should, too. “Now, I gave Crowley some lessons in good communication with your partner. It’s your turn. You two sorely need it.”

She spent the next hour talking with him. By the end of it, Aziraphale felt he had some understanding of how to talk to Crowley without it turning into a disastrous mess that would end everything they had built up over the last six thousand years. He was still nervous about confronting Crowley about their problems and starting to figure out solutions to them, but at least he had some weapons now against his own preconceived ideas. They had to move forward for all their sakes. Three lives were in the balance here when it came to stability and happiness.

“Ready?” She asked.

Aziraphale nodded. She called Crowley over and went to play with Rowan for a while. 

“Work it out, you two. It would be stupid to throw away thousands of years of love over this wouldn’t it?”

“Hello, Crowley,” said Aziraphale nervously. 

Crowley looked up impassively at the Tree before he turned his gaze to his husband. “Hi.” He didn’t start in on Aziraphale, but much defensiveness was present in that one tiny word. 

They sat together beneath the tree and began to work it out slowly. From a distance, God watched for a while before taking Rowan back to her own cottage. There in the kitchen some lunch was prepared and ready to eat on the table. Rowan sat down to eat a sandwich with some crisps. God sat with her.

“Are Daddy and Papa going to be all right, Grandma?”

“I think so. They just need some time to talk, so you’ll stay here with me while they do, ok? When they’re done, you all can go home. You don’t mind playing with Me for a bit, do you?”

Rowan shook her head. 

“You eat and then we can figure out what games to play.”

Back in the Garden, Crowley paced between the Tree and the trail trying to figure how to say what he needed to say. His mind was a bit fuzzy as he split concentration between thinking about the words to choose and trying not to let his body grow wings or turn his t shirt and jeans into a robe. 

“Look. Just give up the bookstore for a while. You’re being so stubborn over it and you have nothing to prove to me. We have that luxury and maybe for a while, we should take advantage of it.”

Aziraphale looked pained. “But that bookshop is my life.”

“Collecting books is your life. Turn the guest bedroom into a library, bring down a bit of your collection and we can go back up to London to swap out books when needed. You’re not going to miss selling to customers. I know you won’t.”

“Ok, how about this . . . you run the shop some of the time.”

“Are you barking mad? I scare off customers.”

“You get time alone in London. Take as long of lunches as you want. Spend a night or two a month if you need to . . .” he added softly.

Crowley stopped pacing there a metre or so away from Aziraphale. “Do you forgive me, then?”

Aziraphale looked down at his own feet that were nearly buried in the grasses beneath them. “I think it’s more a case of you forgiving me.”

“Oh, Aziraphale.” And Crowley was there in his arms, holding him, kissing along his cheek ever-so-softly as Aziraphale cried and hugged him as close as he could. “I forgive you, angel. Missed you.”

“I missed you, too.” 

“Now what?”

Aziraphale was nuzzling in close, feeling Crowley’s spiral curls against the side of his face as the demon was losing the war Eden was waging with him and his form. It was such a source of comfort after the long months of sleeping alone, waking up in an empty bed and having to survive without the touch of his husband. 

“You want to?”

“Here? In Eden? You _are_ mad, angel.”

“I need your touch, my dear. I need it very badly.” The angel had conjured up a blanket under the tree that looked awfully inviting despite its tartan pattern. 

Crowley found himself sitting down on it, drawing Aziraphale into his lap. His Aziraphale, now all dressed in shining white with those wonderful wings bursting forth from his back. Crowley brushed a hand through them, straightening feathers that had been ruffled with their first contact. Next he wiped the tears from his sky blue eyes with a soft smile and a ton of regret.

“I’m sorry.” Crowley brought his forehead against Aziraphale’s, closing his eyes and enjoying this tiny and soft bit of contact. 

“It’s ok. We’re going to be all right.” 

The kisses began softly, both of them peppering each other’s faces with tender touches of the lips as they reacquainted. Pecks turned to smooches that turned to outright passionate kisses on each other’s lips as tongues touched. Hands wandered up and down each other’s bodies, feeling the fabric of each other’s robes now that both had reverted to the forms they had been in during that fateful meeting up on the wall. 

“We can’t do this here,” muttered Crowley even thought he didn’t seem to be making much protest beyond those words. 

“Why not? Adam and Eve did. This place isn’t sacred. It’s ours.”

Aziraphale was untying the black sash overlaying Crowley’s robe without any protest from the demon. It dropped straight on to the blanket without catching on his wings. Touching him by running a finger down the rough grey robe, Aziraphale vanished it as he vanished his own white robes. Careful about Crowley’s wings, he helped his husband lay down on the blanket as he also laid on it, snuggling beside him. The kissing kept up as did the caresses and wanderings of hands over flesh that was starved for touch.

Crowley pulled him down close when he tried to get up, holding the angel there against his chest as he scratched between his wings. “Just stay with me like this. You don’t know what it means to have you there just touching me. I don’t need anything else.”

“I’m not going anywhere. Not ever again.”

They lay as still as statues while the timelessness of Eden happened around them. Ages passed it seemed before Aziraphale stirred, wanting more. He rolled over on top of Crowley, asking silently if continuing like this was all right. The demon didn’t object. 

Carefully preparing, he joined with Crowley before simply laying back down on his chest to listen to his heartbeat. Still again, but physically together. He could feel the warmth of Crowley’s body on his own intimately now. Slowly he sat up enough he could start moving within him, carefully, tenderly. This first time, this return to love was a fragile thing that needed to happen without the frenzied pace that could so easily grow out of the lust they felt for each other.

Crowley reached up, planting his slim hands in Aziraphale’s wings, tightening on his feathers, but not enough to cause pain. Unclenching slightly as he got used to doing intimate things again, he loosened his grip and began scratching in the erotic ways Aziraphale enjoyed so much. Slowly his legs came up to wrap around the angel, pulling them even closer together.

Their lips met in passionate loving kisses they greedily stole from each other as they made up for the months they had gone without. Crowley moaned as Aziraphale pushed a little further into him, reacting by thrusting his tongue a little faster into his mouth. The angel purred in reply.

It was perfect with the sun reaching down through the Tree’s leaves to dapple the blanket and their bodies in its light and the air around them filled with bird song. Crowley gazed up at his husband with eyes gone full-on snake, sclera gone. Aziraphale looked back at him with ones shining a bright flawless blue that wouldn’t be seen outside the Garden.

“Oh, _angel_. . .”

“I love you, Crowley.”

Even climax was relaxed, with them coming slowly and lovingly but their adoring contact didn’t end there. They lay on the tartan blanket entwined, wings wrapped snugly around each other. Crowley gently stroked Aziraphale’s hair while Aziraphale scratched along Crowley’s wing wherever he could reach. 

“So, now what?” Crowley melted as he asked the question.

“We go home together and we do not avoid our problems. We work to change how we communicate as a couple. That is how we solve the issues so we can be happy.”

“That easy, huh?”

“No, it will not be, but what good thing doesn’t require effort?”

“We’d better get up and make ourselves presentable. No saying how long the Almighty is going to want to babysit.” Crowley got his feet, helping Aziraphale up in the process. “Why Eden? Why bring us back here?”

“I don’t know for sure, but maybe it represents new beginnings.”


	21. New Beginnings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aziraphale and Crowley rebuild their relationship with each other.

Aziraphale was at the writing desk in the sitting room his journal open before him, his fountain pen poised over it. They had taken to written communication for some things – like a daily appreciation written for each other and any other positive or negative subjects they wished the other to know that they couldn’t verbally express for one reason or another. Aziraphale wrote pages sometimes; Crowley barely managed more than a short paragraph, if that, most days.

Today Crowley’s journal consisted of:

_I love how strong you are even though you’re a big softy._

At least he was making an attempt. The demon wasn’t interested in such communication activities at first, but Aziraphale convinced him after reading up on ways to value your spouse more. And that thought gave Aziraphale an idea. Putting his pen to paper he wrote:

_I appreciate that you’re willing to do this little journaling exercise with me. Thank you, my love._

That was all he needed to write for today, so far things were going well this week. He miracled up the journal up to Crowley’s desk in the little flat he created over the garage to stay in during this transition period they were going through. They had never really dated when they thought about it. Crowley had just moved in temporarily when Hastur was stalking him then ended up staying on a permanent basis after some sex on the couch and Aziraphale admitting he was in love with Crowley. Then came the whirlwind of marriage, a pregnancy that shouldn’t have been, the mental anguish of preparing to fight Heaven and Hell to keep their child and then raising a baby neither one of them dreamed in their immortal lives would happen. 

Aziraphale decided it was no wonder things were foundering seven years later. It was a lot for two beings to take on their shoulders.

The separate living arrangements gave them some breathing room. They really were opposites in that – Aziraphale preferring homey clutter; Crowley, clean minimalist areas – who did need their own spaces. At least now they had places to retreat to here in the South Downs when things got to be too much. They had more of that in London with Crowley’s space being the flat above the bookshop and Aziraphale’s the bookshop itself. Crowley pondered just staying in the flat up there but for the distance. This was better as Rowan had the run of the property and could visit him if he wasn’t at the cottage, like she did with Lailah.

Aziraphale had temporarily closed the bookshop while they figured out what they were going to do. Crowley was pondering opening a wine shop or something in the nearest town, thinking it less of a burden than Aziraphale traveling to London even if such travel was instantaneous. He had discussed running it with Aziraphale so they would both have time out of the house and time with Rowan. 

“If we’re open six days a week, then we each get three days on, three days off per week,” he had suggested. “And you know your wines as well as I do. It’s a tourist town, so if we add a wine bar, they can have a glass of something then buy it if they like it.”

“You think it would work?”

Crowley had shrugged. “If it doesn’t, we’re lucky enough we don’t really lose anything.”

Aziraphale doubted Crowley would follow through but he kept that thought to himself. It was negative and not something Crowley needed to know. Putting the thought aside, he returned to the present, pulled from his reverie by the sound of the back door opening and shutting.

“Hello?” Lailah walked in to the sitting room from the kitchen. “I was invited over to build with Legos or something.” 

She gave Aziraphale a smile as he looked up at her from the desk. Getting up, he came over to give her a hug and a kiss on the cheek. 

“What a coincidence, so was I. I told her I’d be ready to help out in just a bit.” 

“How’s the journaling going?”

“So far so good,” he replied as they walked down the hall to Rowan’s bedroom. “At least Crowley’s participating and for that I’m grateful.”

Rowan was waiting for them with several boxes of Legos ready to go. She grinned up at them with her blue-gold eyes that she had to brush her shoulder-length wavy hair out of on many an occasion. Showing off her skills, she pushed the containers closer to both of them by using her powers as they seated themselves at the play table. She smiled again at Aziraphale with pride.

“Very good, Rowan. You are getting the hang of things, aren’t you?” He beamed with pride back at her as he shifted in the child-size chair. It was uncomfortable, but he would sit here and play as long as she wanted him to play.

He was a parent now, sometimes that came with a bit of discomfort. So they sat at the table building roads, houses and cars. Rowan commandeered all the grey bricks and built a square wall, filling the inside with all the Lego trees. She carefully placed a red Lego apple under one of the trees. Aziraphale noticed with a slight blush. The small amount of time she had spent in Eden had had a rather large impact on her. 

“Is Daddy coming, too?” asked Rowan.

“No, he’s running errands in town. He’ll be back this afternoon to make dinner for you before we go out,” answered Aziraphale. “You get to hang out with Lailah for a while.”

“Ok.”

“We’ll have fun, won’t we, Rowan?”

“Yeah!”

Rowan then engrossed herself into putting animals in her Eden while Aziraphale simply stacked bricks on top of each other and Lailah attempted to make a house with a bit of furniture inside of it. Eden done, Rowan helped her out then handed out Lego people to everyone so they could play in Rowan’s Garden and Lailah’s house. That imaginative play took up about twenty minutes before Rowan had enough of Legos. She stood up.

“I wanna go outside.”

She headed out without waiting for a response from either her father or aunt, choosing to swing while the angels enjoyed the sunny warm day. They were well into late summer now and knew that it was time to enjoy the weather while they could before fall brought in colder temperatures. But it also brought harvest time for many crops and Aziraphale was excited for the apples that were ripening on Crowley’s well-cared-for trees.

He had convinced Crowley to build a shed where they could make wine and their first batch of raspberry wine looked to be coming along nicely; it just needed to age now. A good apple wine wouldn’t go amiss. Maybe they could try rhubarb, too, next year. He didn’t think Crowley was growing any of that, but it wouldn’t be hard to persuade him to. 

Suddenly missing his husband, he looked towards the garage, but there was no indication that Crowley was currently occupying the flat. He must have still been in town, Aziraphale reckoned. Knowing he would be home soon, he turned back towards the tree that housed Rowan’s swing and watched her play in this wonderful garden they had made by the cottage.

In fact, Crowley was several towns away at a greenhouse searching out dark-coloured chrysanthemums to plant on the side of the garage facing the cottage. He had some varieties of flower in there that bloomed in the spring and summer, but was looking to add some fall colour as well. 

He found some particularly nice dark purple ones whose blooms looked to be made of lush velvet based on the pictures pasted to the cheap plastic pots. He pondered making them pop by alternating them with white ones even though he wasn’t that interested in lighter blooms. Strolling along the greenhouse’s selection some blood red ones caught his eye and he pondered where he could put those. 

White and red. Suddenly the dark purple ones were forgotten and Crowley was driving home, the backseat of the Bentley filled with mums of red and white. Somehow they had become the family colours and since they were back to being a family, it seemed appropriate to plant some corresponding mums. For Hell’s sake he was going soft. Groaning, he turned on to the motorway that would lead back to the cottage. When he arrived, Aziraphale met him in the driveway.

“Don’t say it,” grumbled Crowley, arms full of pots as he walked towards the side of the garage to put them down. Aziraphale followed with the rest.

“Say what?”

“Never mind. You’re entirely too innocent at times, you know that?”

“I thought I was enough of a bastard to be worth liking.”

Crowley gave up, placing a chaste kiss on his cheek instead. “I’m a mess. Let me get cleaned up and we can maybe have a proper snog.”

He headed to his flat to wash the dirt off his hands and brush it off the black t-shirt he wore. Exiting the kitchen, he found Aziraphale waiting in the living room. Crowley blinked, a bit surprised he hadn’t heard the angel come up the stairs and through the door where he stood in a beam of sunlight, his white blond hair shining as bright as pale gold. Crowley just took him in for a minute, sleeves rolled up, the top two buttons of his shirt undone, bowtie missing.

“Hi.” Short, stupid and to the point, he thought to himself.

“Hello, my dear.” Aziraphale fidgeted with his hands, smiling softly, back to that awkward angel Crowley had known for centuries upon centuries. 

He held out his arms, Crowley almost immediately flying into them. He sighed, taking in the lavender-mint smell of Aziraphale’s shampoo, relishing being able to put his arms around his husband again. Aziraphale nuzzled into his long hair as well, radiating happiness that Crowley could feel the same as if he was radiating heat. They stood there in the sunlight, near-white and red hair burning brightly in its beams. 

“I love you, Crowley.”

“Angel, I . . .” Crowley paused, suddenly tongue-tied.

“It’s ok. You don’t have to say anything.” Aziraphale knew it was hard for him. He understood.

They stood stock still in the warmth of the sunbeam for a few moments enjoying each other. 

Crowley reluctantly separated. “I should get Rowan and Lailah’s dinner going.” He smiled at Aziraphale. “I really do need to teach Lailah how to cook more than just macaroni and cheese.”

“You won’t. You enjoy being the family chef. They can get takeout, you know. Lailah’s been known to discreetly transport into town and back with food.”

“I’m going to ignore that statement. I’ll make something simple. Want to help?”

“Of course.”

They settled on handmade fish and chips. Crowley had some cod his freezer and was able to quickly whip up batter with Aziraphale helping get ingredients together. Then they worked together on frying both the battered pieces of cod and chips while trying not to spend too much time kissing each other excitedly while they waited for the food to cook.

“Just a moment,” Crowley stepped away from his husband. “I need to turn this fish. Check the chips, will you?”

Aziraphale poked at them with the tongs, brow furrowed as he examined individual ones. “I believe they’re ready.” 

He scooped them out onto a paper towel-lined plate. Another one sat ready to receive the crispy pieces of fish when they were done. It wasn’t long before Crowley flipped them on it and plopped a couple of more raw ones into the pan of heated oil. As sizzling filled the air, Aziraphale grabbed Crowley’s mobile to text Lailah dinner was about ready. He was not a proficient texter nor did he see any reason to get himself a mobile, but he did on rare occasions use Crowley’s to send messages if needs be. 

It wasn’t long before the final pieces of fish joined the others on the plate. The two of them fell on to the couch in the adjoining living room kissing each other as if they had been separated for years, completely losing track of time. It was a good thing supernatural beings possessed the ability to keep food hot and fresh. 

“Where have you two been?” asked Lailah when they finally entered the cottage’s kitchen with the covered plates of freshly fried goodness. 

“Cooking up in my flat, duh,” responded Crowley cheekily as he placed his plate on the table and went to find Rowan.

“Oh. Making out.”

Aziraphale turned several shades of red, muttering an unintelligible response as he put the plate he carried in on the table next to one Crowley set there. As he straightened up, he made a show of pulling his waistcoat down, ignoring Lailah’s knowing chuckle in the background.

“You two are adorable.”

Crowley raced in, followed by Rowan who was screaming with laughter. Scooping her up, he plopped her at the table and ruffled her strawberry blond hair. “There ya go, kiddo. I made you fish and chips.”

“You and Papa going to be gone all night?”

“I don’t know. But we will be here in the morning and I’ll make you pancakes.”

That bribe worked. They sat with Rowan and Lailah while they ate then headed to their individual bedrooms to get ready.

Aziraphale stood before his closet pondering if he should put on his best light grey suit that he always wore out or just make do with his usual beige frockcoat and tartan bowtie look. He decided the suit was probably the best but paired it with his tried and trusted bowtie. He stood in front of the mirror, expertly tying it before trying to get his hair to cooperate just for the night, but the unruly curls refused to lie completely flat. He left them knowing Crowley wouldn’t mind. He often got cross with the angel for using a miracle to change them in anyway. 

“You’ve had that hairstyle six thousand years now, why change?” he’d argue. “Besides, I rather like it on you.”

There. Grey suit and shoes. White shirt. Tartan bowtie. Somewhat tamed hair. He was ready. Exiting the master bedroom, he walked down the hallway to the sitting room where Lailah and Rowan were settling in to watch a film. Rowan clapped to see him and Lailah grinned.

“You look good,” she said to him. “I believe Crowley will like it.”

“Like what?” asked the demon who just came in the door.

He was dressed in his usual black suit with red shirt and black tie. He had kept his eyes their usual snake look and was holding his sunglasses in his hand. Looking over Aziraphale in the way only someone in love would look at their partner, he smiled softly at his husband.

“Hey, angel.”

With hugs and kisses for Rowan, they headed out to the Bentley. Crowley turned to Aziraphale as they pulled out onto the rural road that led past their cottage. 

“So, where are we going all dressed up like this?”

“We haven’t been to that one newish restaurant in Brighton in a while.”

“Then we shall go.”

It was a good choice. They served Greek food there and it had been a while since either of them had enjoyed that. They sat before glasses of wine awaiting their order pondering exactly when they had been in Greece together.

“In the 1950s, maybe?” suggested Aziraphale. “I had a slight hand in the Greek economic miracle.” 

“I haven’t been to Greece since they kicked out Constantine . . .” Crowley paused a beat. “No, George I. I think . . . Yes, George I.”

“He was assassinated.”

“Well, either way he was no longer king.”

“I probably don’t want to know why you were there.”

“Observing only. I didn’t kill anyone; you know me, Aziraphale. Hell just wanted reports on the unrest so they could send a Duke or two to make it worse. Anyway, does it matter anymore? Why do we go down such paths of memory lane?”

They eventually gave up trying to figure it out as they were served their appetizer of dolmadakia. Folded inside the roasted grape leaves was ground lamb and rice stuffing. Aziraphale thoroughly enjoyed it. Crowley liked it, but not as much as his husband.

Their main course consisted of moussaka with its layers of aubergine and tomato, minced lamb and white sauce for Crowley and pastitsio composed of ground beef in tomato sauce sandwiched between two layers of tubular pasta and topped with cheese and a béchamel sauce with a vinegary salad on the side for Aziraphale. They both sat talking animatedly at each other while savouring every bite. Aziraphale was convinced the food was made better by the presence of his husband, who only ate about three-fourths of his entrée before shoving his plate towards Aziraphale.

“You sure?”

“Yeah. I’m full.”

“No room for dessert?”

“You go ahead and order it.”

Aziraphale opted for the galaktoboureko with its crispy phyllo filled with cream custard and scented syrup. It was a delectable dessert and he ate all but the bite of it he offered Crowley. Crowley sat with his coffee, enjoying the sight of Aziraphale’s delight over his food. Some things never changed he thought as Aziraphale popped the last bite in his mouth. 

“You sure you don’t want any?” the angel had asked before eating it.

“Nah, I’m good. It is delicious, but you can have it.” Crowley received way more enjoyment out of watching Aziraphale relish food than actually eating. 

“Now what?” asked Aziraphale, dessert now consumed, as they waited for the cheque.

Crowley cocked a flirty eyebrow at him. “Wanna go back to my place? I can show you a good time.”

The angel laughed at that. “You old charmer, you.”

Impatient for the return of their server, Crowley wished their bill paid then and there, the two of them all but sprinting back to the Bentley. Once inside, Crowley didn’t start it immediately. Instead they took a long pause to snog, slipping hands under suit coats to feel soft cotton shirts. Aziraphale’s fingers lingered over the buttons on Crowley’s dark red one before moving on.

“Not here, angel. The car’s off limits.”

“Why?”

“Would you have sex on a bed made of your first editions?”

“Of course not.”

“We’re not having sex in my pride and joy either.”

Aziraphale sighed peevishly. “Shall we get a hotel room instead?”

“We’re not _that_ far from home. C’mon . . . off my lap. Let me drive. I can get us there in half an hour. Forty-five minutes tops.”

Reluctantly Aziraphale slid over to the passenger seat as Crowley started the car, recklessly heading out into traffic as the angel kept a hand lingering on his inner thigh. He swerved unnecessarily with a sly look towards Aziraphale.

“Careful where you’re putting that hand, angel. I’d like to not wreck the Bentley.”

“Sorry, my dear.”

The sexual tension in the car was near suffocating on that ride home and it was only Crowley’s ability to wish them safe that kept the car on the road while Aziraphale’s hand wandered up and down his thigh. It came teasingly close to areas where it shouldn’t venture without actually crossing the line and Crowley decided that was worse than if the line had been crossed. It became increasingly difficult to actually concentrate on the road itself meaning he wasn’t sure how they reached home, just that they were now pulling up in the driveway and into the garage itself.

He had to literally peel one angel off of him to get out. “Jesus Christ, Aziraphale, will you hold on?”

Aziraphale miracled them both into Crowley’s bedroom where he started tugging off his husband’s jacket before Crowley had time to register where they were. Helping Aziraphale out by yanking his arms out of his coat sleeves, he then grabbed the angel by the shoulders.

“You don’t need to rush. We have all night,” he said in a soothing voice.

Stroking Aziraphale’s hair gently, he sat him on his bed, observing his heavy breathing and dilated pupils indicating his high levels of lust. Starting slow, Crowley carefully took off Aziraphale’s coat, followed by his shirt, then his trousers. Kissing his shoulder and working down his arm, he covered the entire limb with the physical manifestation of his love for his husband, working slowly as he tried to reign in Aziraphale’s frenzy.

“Shhh. There. Let’s enjoy this, ok?” He was kissing every knuckle on Aziraphale’s left hand before moving on to his right, reversing the process. He started at his right knuckles and kissed his way slowly and passionately up to his shoulder. “You’re everything to me.”

“I love you, too, Crowley.” Aziraphale knew Crowley had hard time actually saying those three little words and that such phrases like he just uttered were his way of telling him he loved him. 

You could take the demon out of Hell, but it took a lot longer to take Hell out of the demon. Aziraphale knew it would come in time, but Crowley had six thousands years and time uncountable before that worth of defense mechanisms to overcome. Being here to help him do just that was an honour Aziraphale was proud to be part of.

“Here, let’s get you out of these clothes,” he said softly as he reached over to unbutton Crowley’s shirt.

It was soon tossed off somewhere on the bedroom floor with Aziraphale’s clothes. Crowley’s trousers shortly joined it, followed by everything else either one of them were left wearing. 

Crowley had leaned Aziraphale back, kissing down his plump stomach to his erection before looking up at him with a mischievous smile. Gently taking the tip in mouth, he licked it playfully before covering it with small kisses. Aziraphale moaned as he felt the kisses being placed along the shaft – top, bottom and sides. Crowley even went lower, teasingly placing his lips on his husband’s balls before licking the sensitive area along the seam. 

Aziraphale gasped, his hands clutching at the bedcovers with lust as he wanted to badly to tangle them up in Crowley’s beautiful hair. Not yet. He’d just tug it very hard in his excitement, ruining the mood. He’d have to hold that thought, keeping his desire to reciprocate touch with his husband in check until the appropriate time.

Crowley was licking even lower, coating his entrance before moving back up to Aziraphale’s cock. The angel felt fingers enter him as Crowley shifted so he could tease him on two different fronts. He felt the demons’ fingers curl inside of him, gently massaging as Crowley’s mouth moved in wet erotic motions along his cock, the sucking stopping occasionally as he wrapped his tongue around the shaft. Aziraphale was lost in the electrifying feeling of Crowley’s work, his hands clenching the bedcovers like he was hanging on for dear life and would fall off the Earth itself if he let go.

This didn’t escape the demon’s notice. He smiled slightly to himself as he tongued the angel’s shaft, feeling the liquid that was starting to leak out of it. Suddenly he completely pulled off and slid his fingers out.

“Get up. Bend over the side of the bed.”

Aziraphale did as he was instructed, leaning wantonly over on the mattress, which was lifted to just the right height to accommodate them in this position. Crowley inspected him from this angle, running slim fingers over his arse, digging fingernails in just enough to elicit a slight jump and squeak out of the angel. He chuckled softly.

“Ready angel?”

Crowley’s stomach was up against Aziraphale as he entered, their bodies as close as could be. Aziraphale sighed in lust, content in the feel of Crowley’s soft skin against his own, the brush of its warmth so familiar against him. It had been so long; this was only the second time since they reunited and his entire body was rejoicing in Crowley’s return.

“I wish I could see your face, but I so love that I can touch all of your back like this,” Crowley whispered in his ear as he rocked his hips against the angel’s well-padded arse.

Aziraphale’s back arched in response breaking contact with Crowley’s chest. Carefully the demon lay his flexible body down, spreading his arms over Aziraphale’s and clasping his hands in his, fingers interlocking. He found he could still move enough to satisfy his partner and kept up the steady rhythm, loving the sounds escaping now and again from the angel’s throat as he vocalized his enjoyment. 

“Don’t come, angel. Hold on to it,” whispered Crowley as he felt everything build. “I want you inside me after this, just like our first time. Remember?”

Crowley cried out, his fingers tightening on Aziraphale’s as he had A Moment, everything released until there was nothing left but a hazy feeling of well-being. Pinning Aziraphale down for a minute while he caught his breath, Crowley finally rose off the angel and offered himself to him to satisfy his own needs. A willing sacrifice to the one angel whom he adored above all others. He cupped Aziraphale’s face in his hands as his husband turned towards him, eyes alight with the desire to fulfill his own needs.

“Take me.”

And Aziraphale did, there on the grey duvet of Crowley’s bed, reminiscent of the time on the white leather couch in the flat above the bookshop. Tears of joy streaked Crowley’s cheeks as Aziraphale filled him in the most primal of ways. Sometimes nostalgia was well worth it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know Lailah isn't much in this chapter, but I don’t think I’ve noted her origins. Lailah is, in Jewish tradition, an angel of the night who is in charge of conception. S/he (it is debated if Lailah is male or female) takes a soul from the Garden of Eden and puts it together with an unborn child. She (I’ll just use that pronoun since my Lailah is female-presenting) then puts a lighted candle in the womb so the child can see from one end of the world to the other. While the unborn child is growing, it is taught the Torah by Lailah until it is time to be born. Then Lailah blows out the candle, the child is born and she strikes the child on the upper lip, which is why we have an indent there. This causes the child to forget the knowledge learned before birth. The lesson of the myth is that we are not born blank slates, but with knowledge we just have to remember.


	22. Relearning Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crowley and Aziraphale are learning to overcome the bumps in the road, but they know they must keep working on their relationship if they are to make it. Rowan goes shopping with Lailah and what they bring back with them inspires Aziraphale to do something to show Crowley how much he's loved.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the last chapter of this particular book. Next week a new one will start. We'll be back in London, Rowan will be older and the loneliness she feels as a result of her unique situation is going to lead to an errant hellhound deciding it likes her and lots of headaches for her parents. I plan on this book being a little less heavy and hopefully I can weave a little more humour into it.

It had started out a civil conversation, but it hadn’t remained that. The two were seated at the kitchen table taking tea one afternoon, which Aziraphale was a fan of and Crowley participated in just to indulge him, when Aziraphale threw out there he was going to reopen the bookshop next week, noting he loved being home more with Rowan and Crowley both, but they did need to make their own way in the world now that neither of them were receiving paychecks from Heaven or Hell. Crowley tried to keep calm, but eventually he quietly blew a gasket the more Aziraphale attempted to explain.

“You’re going to do this to me again?” he hissed as his slow-burning fury had him literally rising from his chair while Aziraphale looked calmly on.

“It’s something I need to do, even if I need to balance it with spending time with our child. Why can’t you understand that?” 

Crowley squeezed his eyes shut while he tried to control his temper. “I” phrases . . . he needed to remember to use those to not put Aziraphale on the defensive. He breathed out, willing his temper to go back to sleep. 

“I do understand, angel. I understand you need to feel useful and the bookshop is your way of contributing to the family finances. I know that you need that.” Crowley chose his phrases wisely. “But I need you to understand that to go back to the way things were is not an option. I do enjoy having my own space. It’s great having a place to retreat to when I need it, but I cannot access my space if you’re not around to watch Rowan sometimes.”

“I’m sorry, my dear. Let me start over . . .” Aziraphale took his time rephrasing. “I want to be open three or four days a week. That is all. Unless you are onboard for taking shifts, then we can have the bookshop open every day and you can spend time in London. Close up early. Go see the latest exhibits at the art museums. Take in a show. Enjoy the nightlife before coming home.”

“You’re overcompensating, angel.”

Aziraphale took to wringing his hands in self-doubt. “I’m trying here, but apparently I’m not sure how to give you what you need.”

Crowley walked over to fold Aziraphale’s hands in his own. “I’ll let you know when I need some time away from here, but you need to take it seriously. It helps so much to have you around and understanding that staying home with a child all the time is trying and that I do need a break. We got too caught up in Rowan, to be honest, while we needed to be taking care of ourselves. Each other as well, for that matter. Can we talk about the bookshop?”

“Yes,” replied Aziraphale in a voice that carried with it a hint of wariness.

“How about being open just three days a week? Believe me . . . you don’t want me up there causing trouble.”

“Then let’s try three days a week and see how that works.”

“And you owe me a weekend in London once a month.”

“Oh? I do?”

“Yes. Non-negotiable. Me, you . . . time in London. Maybe sometimes we’ll bring the tiny terror. I know I’m asking to indulge a luxury not many parents have but it’s something we can do. We have a flat to stay in, Lailah’s said she’ll watch Rowan. Rowan needs time away from us as well since she’s also around here all the time. It’ll be good for all of us.”

“Yes, it will, Crowley, but I really wish you wouldn’t use such words to describe our child.”

“Demon . . . remember?” Crowley resumed his seat. “Do we have a deal?”

“Will it work?”

“It’s not set in stone. We can adjust as we need to,” Crowley reminded him, his coffee mug poised for a sip. He gulped some down before continuing. “And things will be different when we get back to London. If I need a break, I can always have her spend time in the bookshop with you. Hell knows she’s staring to love books as much as you do. Honestly, I’d say we’ll be back in a year or so because Rowan’s control is getting so good. We just have to get her to not let go of that control when she’s angry and she’ll be ready to really rejoin the human population. It’ll be good for her. This is her world. She has nowhere else to go, so she needs to learn it inside and out.”

Aziraphale looked like he was debating what to say next. Their conversations these days contained a lot of pauses, but that didn’t matter. They were learning to communicate more effectively and sometimes that meant taking the time to choose words carefully instead of thoughtlessly blurting out whatever was on their minds. He bit his lip and then responded.

“All right. I believe we have that settled, then? Three days a week open for the bookshop and a weekend a month in London for us. Nothing else to discuss, my dear?”

“Well, after this I have nothing planned to do, except maybe you since Rowan’s out shopping with Lailah. Is that up for discussion?”

Aziraphale smiled knowingly in response; his husband did so like make up sex even if he didn’t appreciate the required disagreement. He slid him a seductive look from over his teacup then went back to demurely eating his scone as if Crowley had said nothing about bedroom activities.

~*~*~

“Papa’s bookshop!” cried Rowan as she climbed excitedly out of a cab with Lailah who wanted to get coffee at the café across the street.

“Yes, and he said you can bring home a book or two to read. But first I’d like some coffee. Would you like some cocoa?”

Lailah sat her down at a table and got in line. She had placed a protection spell over Rowan so nothing could happen to her there layered with a spell that rendered her unnoticeable to keep humans from wondering why a young girl was by herself. But Lailah had left their coats noticeably on two chairs making it look like the table’s occupant was up getting drinks or had taken a young child to the loo. She didn’t have to worry about Rowan wandering off. She was precocious for her human age and developing at a different rate due to her supernatural nature. Still, Lailah watched her carefully as she waited, returning to the table after she put in their order.

“What kind of books do you think you’ll bring home?” she asked as she sat down to wait for it to be made. 

Rowan shrugged as she tapped away on her tablet. “I don’t know. I’ll look.”

Aziraphale had set aside a bookshelf upstairs for Rowan on the day they brought her back to London as a newborn. Since then he had been filling it with books of all kinds for children of all ages. Collecting dust on the top shelves were the books she had outgrown, the ones below those shelves were books she would eventually grow into. The very bottom shelves were she could reach were stored the ones appropriate for her reading levels and she devoured them. It was enough to bring a proud tear to Aziraphale’s eye, especially since she was reading at a level advanced for her age. 

“You know, you could put that away so we could have a conversation.”

“Why?”

That was Crowley’s influence coming out. One minute she was a perfect little angel, the next she showed her demonic side. Lailah gently reached out to take it away from her, receiving a glare in return. 

“It’s polite. Remember your manners. Oh, there’s our order, be right back.”

Rowan slid the tablet back over to herself and started her game up again, engrossed once again in the short time it took Lailah to get up from the table, walk over to the counter, grab their drinks with a thanks to the barista and return. She kept Rowan’s cocoa right there in front of her, tapping her fingers impatiently on the table.

“You can’t have it until you put that way. You know the rules.”

In a fit of pique, Rowan shoved the tablet to one of the empty spots at the table, her face clouded over with an upset look at being interrupted in the middle of whatever she happened to be playing. Lailah ignored her little snit, choosing to plop the cocoa in front of her and calmly sip at her own coffee. It was hot enough the angel used a small miracle to cool it off enough to not leave burns on her tongue. 

“If you’re going to act out, we’ll skip going to the bookshop.”

After that Rowan was sullen but behaved for the entire time at the café. Aziraphale would not be happy about her behaviour. It wouldn't be worth bringing up to Crowley. He’d just reply that she couldn’t be expected to be perfect and since she listened without having a temper tantrum, it wasn’t anything to worry about. Lailah suspected he got some perverse pleasure out of Rowan acting out even if he couldn’t voice it without upsetting Aziraphale.

They finished up, throwing the empty paper cups away before gathering their coats and shopping bags to head out. Rowan waited impatiently at the street corner for traffic to let them cross, skipping through the street to the front stoop of the bookshop while Lailah increased her stride to keep up with her, fumbling with the key to the door when she arrived. It would not do to just open it with a thought. There were too many humans in the area.

Rowan raced in the familiar place she had lived in as a baby then visited often with her angelic parent. It held for her a sense of familiarity and wonderful memories. She had spent many hours watching Aziraphale take care of his books as he talked to her about them, why they were important and using the simple children’s books he had stared collecting to teach her to read. Many a time she’d sit at the table in the backroom with him as he repaired the binding or cover on an old volume that desperately needed some care to restore it to readable condition. Sometimes she’d watch him for a long, long time as he lovingly resewed the tattered binding of an ancient book, making it like new again.

“It takes patience sometimes to get these old books back into tiptop condition,” he told her.

“Why doesn’t Daddy read?” she had asked once.

“Oh, he does. He’s just not the type who wants to say he does.”

Moving through the shop, she skipped to the spiral staircase, clomping up it in her trainers to her shelf to look over the selection of books stashed there. She was beyond the books usually appropriate for kids her age, gravitating towards books more appropriate for those around four years older than her. Right now she was eyeing _James and the Giant Peach_ and _Coraline_. They both looked good, so she decided to bring both home with her. Clutching them to her chest, she took them back downstairs to Lailah who was on the phone with Raphael while she waited. 

“I got books,” she said, presenting her prizes to her.

“Good, Rowan. Give me just a minute to say goodbye and we’ll be on our way.” She turned back to her conversation briefly then hung up, stashing her cell phone in the small purse she carried with her. “OK, ready to head home?”

“No. I want to get Daddy and Papa a present.”

“You do?”

“Yes. I get presents on my birthday, why don’t they get presents on theirs?”

Lailah smiled at her. “Oh honey, they don’t have birthdays. We all were created, not born like you.”

Rowan wrinkled her forehead. “Created?”

“Built, more or less,” Lailah reached out to take Rowan’s hand as they headed out the bookshop door. “Like you do with Legos. We weren’t born as babies.”

“Built like with Legos.” Rowan laughed at that. 

“It’ll be easier to explain when you’re older. But that doesn’t mean we can’t go buy them gifts. Gifts are a nice touch.”

Rowan thought every would be explained to her when she was older. Her face momentarily clouding over because of that, she soon forgot about it as they browsed the shops in the area for suitable gifts. It was all overwhelming to her young mind and she did have a very hard time coming up with gifts for both Crowley and Aziraphale, but she did manage to find two things that they would like.

Lailah was paying for the last present when the cloudy weather outside gave way to rain. She gazed out the shop window with a sigh and discreetly miracled an umbrella into existence inside one of their shopping bags. Rowan didn’t mind getting wet, but she did even if she did have the ability to instantly dry herself when she got out of the rain. Showers and storms here in London were always so cold while Lailah was an angel who very much appreciated warmth. Opening the green striped umbrella, she and Rowan braved the elements long enough to get to a hidden space where they could transport to the cottage.

It was not sunny there, either, but at least it was dry, a bit warmer and the birds were happily singing. The lack of crowds was to be much appreciated as well, Lailah decided as she set their purchases on the sitting room couch while Rowan ran off in search of her parents.

“I see you made it back in one piece.” Crowley had appeared, casually leaning against the wall where the sitting room connected to the hallway. 

Rowan had unfortunately missed him by heading outside instead of out the door.

“Yes, we’re fine. Remind me never to take her on long shopping trips again. I have never seen someone so indecisive before. She has such trouble picking between two different colours of shirts, for instance.”

“I think she needs more such trips. She’s too isolated here.”

Lailah nodded in agreement. “You just might have a point.”

She had walked over to him, asking through her actions for a hug. He allowed it having become used to touch from her. Lailah took a risk and brushed a gentle peck against his cheek, receiving no complaint in return. 

“How was you time alone?”

Crowley winked at her. “Productive.” The comment was accompanied by a mischievous smile that meant she was better off not making any further inquiries about it.

“Well, Rowan has more clothes for fall and winter. And she bought you two gifts.”

“She did? Why?”

“Birthdays.”

Crowley looked confused, opening his mouth to comment when Lailah interrupted him.

“I know. We don’t exactly have birthdays. But trying explaining that to her.”

Crowley had wandered over to the couch to inspect the contents of the bags. He pulled out long sleeved shirts of bright, cheerful colours covered in flowers or graphics of animals with sayings or sometimes stripes or polka dots. The look on his face clearly told Lailah he was definitely not on board with Rowan’s chosen style. Putting aside the violently electric blue jumper he held, he rolled his eyes.

“I saw that. It’s what she likes,” chastised Lailah. “You don’t have to wear it. You can stick to your black-on-black ensembles.”

“My shirt’s grey today,” he snapped, pulling for emphasis at his darkest charcoal Henley that could have easily been mistaken for black.

Lailah just shook her head and let it pass. Some arguments were not worth the effort it took to get involved with them. She perked her ears as the sounds of a squeal reached them. Rowan must have found Aziraphale. From the direction of the sound she guessed he must have been out checking on the raspberry wine. It was their first batch and he wanted it to be perfect even though he could use a miracle to make it perfect if needs be. That was cheating as far as Aziraphale was concerned.

“Out with the wine,” Crowley confirmed.

Rowan raced her angelic parent inside, beating him because he would never dream of actually winning any race with her. They both arrived out of breath and happy, Rowan immediately heading to the bags to dig out the gifts she bought for both him and Crowley. Soon they proudly presented with the treasures she found. For Crowley she bought a new plant mister; Aziraphale received several new bookmarks. Bouncing joyfully on the balls of her feet, Rowan was bubbling with excitement over the presents.

“Lailah said you don’t have birthdays like I do. But you still need presents.”

After getting hugs from her parents along with thank yous, she headed off to play in her room until such time that she got bored and wandered outside for further entertainment or Crowley announced dinner was ready. Aziraphale watched her go, running his fingers over the bookmarks thoughtfully.

Gifts. Now why hadn’t he ever thought of that over the years? He and Crowley had never really exchanged gifts, with the exception of maybe buying lunch for one another or bringing over a bottle of some kind of wine to share. It got him thinking, formulating ideas. He gave Crowley a contemplative look that went unnoticed since he was in conversation with Lailah over Rowan’s new wardrobe. 

Not wanting to interrupt, he sent the question through their mental link. _Can I groom your wings later?_

_Of course. My place or yours?_

_Yours. More privacy. After Rowan goes to bed._

_I look forward to it, angel._

“You’re awfully quiet Aziraphale,” Lailah commented.

He looked up at her with a small slice of surprise in his sky blue eyes. “Oh, just thinking. Nothing important.”

“It must be. You missed out on the entire conversation,” she teased. She grabbed the shopping bags, handing some to Aziraphale and the rest to Crowley. “Now go put those away. I did the hard part and took her out to get them.”

“If we’re doing that, then you go out and get me about four or five ripe peaches. I need them for dinner,” Crowley retorted. “You have to earn your keep around here you know.”

“Oh, and taking your daughter shopping wasn’t just that?”

Aziraphale laughed. “She has you there.”

But Lailah went to grab a basket out of the lower kitchen cabinets anyway and headed out to the specially built south-facing wooden wall in the orchard where Crowley had fan trained a couple of peach trees to protect them from the harsher weather the sea sometimes brought in. “I’m going. If only because I want to eat dinner.”

Rowan smiled at them as they brought in her new clothes. She was playing with dolls this time – some of them human and a couple who had wings. Lailah felt it important she had dolls that looked like her true form as well as ones that looked like her human one. Crowley and Aziraphale never thought about that themselves, having only had prolonged close contact with one human child who did have action figures that were vaguely the same shape and gender he was. 

“I named this one Lailah,” she told them, wagging a doll with light brown hair at them.

“Nice. You should name one of them Crowley. That’s a nice name.”

“No, Daddy. None of them have yellow eyes.”

“Well, I tried,” sighed Crowley who was hanging up the clothes he was handed in the back of the closet where they would wait to be worn until the weather got cold. 

Aziraphale reached up to touch his hand as he grabbed for hangers as well. Crowley shivered slightly at the feel of his finger tracing over his slim hand, a promise of more later. Aziraphale noticed and smiled as he put shirts on hangers and talked to Rowan about her clothing choices.

“You don’t have to go so eye-blindingly bright. Black’s a good colour,” Crowley interjected.

“Black’s your colour. Daddy’s is blue. And mine is rainbow.”

_You should be happy it’s not tartan._

_You dressed her in that enough when she was a baby._

_She looked absolutely adorable._

_Ugh._

It wasn’t long before it was time for Crowley to throw dinner together, making a herbed chicken and peach salad to take advantage of his harvest. Since he was occupied, Aziraphale slipped up to the flat above the garage to seek out an element he needed to complete his gift for his husband. He knew right where to look, the cupboard in the bedroom. Reaching up to the very back corner of the shelf, he groped around for the small box he knew just because of lucky coincidence. Crowley kept every shed feather he groomed from Aziraphale’s wings shrunken down to fit in a small wooden box he had stashed where he thought Aziraphale would not find it. 

The angel had found it, though, one day while getting Crowley’s coat for him before they headed out. It had tumbled down, falling open to spill white miniaturized angel wing feathers everywhere that Aziraphale had quickly miracled back inside of it and stashed up on the shelf again. He wondered why Crowley kept it hidden. Personally he found the gesture sweet and it wasn’t as if he didn’t know Crowley was all about keeping souvenirs related to their times together. But he kept his knowledge to himself.

Choosing a shed secondary, he vanished it to a bubble dimension. He could have just as easily pulled one of his own feathers for use, but there was something very appealing to him about using one Crowley had lovingly put aside in a box of treasured items. 

He snuck back out just in time. Crowley was calling that dinner was ready. Quietly Aziraphale transported himself to the wine making shed where he looked upon their bottles of newly made raspberry wine that were stored in a cool, dark cupboards below the counters they used to transform fruit into fermented liquid. It didn’t look like it needed to be racked again, so he left it alone. 

Conversation at the dinner table was animated, loud and entertaining, just like it used to be before trouble started to settle on them. All three of the older beings noticed it. Two rejoiced at its return, feeling positive about the turn-around that was being made with effort. The third felt some of his anxiety about being worthy of love dissipate. 

Evening fell upon them bringing time to read to Rowan before putting her to bed, then they were alone. With magical means to keep an eye on the slumbering child in the cottage, they headed up to the flat for an hour or so of grooming. 

Even though he could manifest his wings through his shirt with no problems, Crowley chose to take it off smiling as he stood there in the living room watching Aziraphale appreciate his gesture. Sky blue eyes sparkling, he caressed Crowley’s bare skin, leaning forward to give him kisses. He heard the distinctive sound of wings unfurling, his breath catching in Crowley’s mouth at the thought of the soft intimacy to follow. They hadn’t groomed each other in about six months, normally a blink of an eye to immortal beings, but a lifetime to ones who had adapted to a somewhat human life. 

They sat on conjured pillows on the floor, Crowley sitting cross-legged up against the couch so he could lean against it if needs be. Sometimes grooming relaxed him to the point he required something to support him as he melted from the touch. Behind him, Aziraphale reached in carefully and began to preen, sweeping away dust, straightening crooked feathers and eventually preparing a small miracle to numb a secondary that had seen better days then pulling it and convincing another to grow in its place in a matter of seconds. Storing it away in the bubble dimension with his white feather, he stroked the now soft pliable feathers feeling their warmth as Crowley sighed, his head resting on his arms which were resting on the couch cushion in front of him. Aziraphale lovingly traced a finger down his spine.

“There you go, love. I’m done.”

Despite being a boneless mass, Crowley managed to put his wings back in the ethereal plane and flop over with his back against the couch. Pulling Aziraphale into his lap, they sat there entangled in each other for a long time before returning to the cottage. 

~*~*~

Aziraphale burst into the flat a day later carrying a large wrapped package he handed to a surprised Crowley, who was just getting ready to make some coffee before joining the rest of the world. Dressed only in a pair of satin pyjama bottoms, he blinked at his husband as he stood there by the sink, tap running, clutching the coffee pot. 

“Did something burn down again?”

“No,” replied Aziraphale in a slightly exasperated voice. “I . . . I just wanted to give you something.”

“Oh.” Crowley waved the tap off, put down the pot and looked at the wrapped rectangle the angel was holding. He was rather puzzled; they had never bothered with gifts before.

Aziraphale held it out to him. Taking it, he removed the plain brown paper on it to reveal a large frame containing three secondary feathers – his and Aziraphale’s crossed in an “X” with the smaller one from Rowan’s wings centered below the X. It was matted on grey light enough to make the black stand out but dark enough it wouldn’t wash out the white. Crowley took it to the small kitchen table he had, set it down and gazed at it while running his fingers over the glass.

“Angel, I . . .”

“It’s nothing.”

“No. It’s beautiful. It’s us. Together. Oh God, I thought you were gone forever when the bookshop burned, I thought she’d be taken from us as soon as she was born and I thought I lost everything permanently when we separated.”

Aziraphale looked upon the demon with tears in his serpentine eyes and just for a moment he was looking upon an amber-eyed angel with fiery red spiral curls dressed in a leaf green robe. He looked down at the wedding ring back on Crowley’s finger. Taking up the demon’s hand, he twisted the ring slightly around on his finger.

“May I?”

Crowley nodded, wondering what he was up to. Aziraphale pulled it off, kissed it, and then slid it back on. “There. You put it back on yourself, but it was always mine to place on you.”

“And yours?”

“I haven’t taken it off since the day you put it on me.”

They both crumbled into an emotional loving hug, the weight of the long months that had just passed lifting. Things were not perfect yet and there were still repairs to be made to their hearts, but both knew now they would make it. They would come out of this stronger than ever. All they had to do was keep trying and keep loving each other.

“I think I shall hang your present in the living room next to the sketch of the Mona Lisa. What do you think?”

“I believe it will look lovely there.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fan training is where you train fruit trees to grow in a fan shape up against a fence or wall. They take up less space that way and have some protection from the elements. I’ve done research to know what plants can be grown successfully in the South Downs and peaches are apparently iffy. Doable if you put the work into them and protect them from frost in the spring because they bloom early when it’s still colder in the UK. That also means you have to hand pollinate them in most cases. It seems like a challenge Crowley would take on.
> 
> Racking wine is the process of siphoning it from one container to another to get rid of sediment. A mere mention of raspberry wine has turned into some research into wine making. 😁


	23. BOOK FOUR: The Errant Hellhound

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A growing Rowan is not only becoming a challenge for her parents, but has attracted the attention of a hellhound, much to everyone's annoyance. Heaven doesn't want the beast in play and Hell doesn't want to deal with its one-track mind that's just causing everyone issues. Then there's also Rowan's parents, whom both sides know have the favour of God Herself, to consider.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ~*~*~
> 
> Chapter 23: In the Middle
> 
> ~*~*~

_Two years later, London:_

Rowan sat at the kitchen table, holding her breath as sweat formed on her temples, concentrating on transporting herself to the back room of the bookshop. What she had done once out of fear as a young child wasn’t as easy to learn to do consciously. Her powers had to be learned as they did not come to her innately like they did with her parents. It might very well have been a consequence of being born rather than created as a full-fledged adult ready to explore her world.

“Breathe, Rowan,” Crowley’s voice cut across her concentration. “You’ll get it. I think you’re trying too hard. Where are you pulling your power from?”

The eight-year-old was rather precocious for her human age, acting closer to a preteen than someone still in single digits. “Heaven and Hell.”

“At the same time?”

“Yeah.”

“Ok, try just one or the other. That might help. You might be cancelling your miracle by using opposing powers at the same time and that’s why it’s not working.”

“It’s just weird,” she said. “Neither side cares if I use their power.”

“They probably do, but there’s not much they can do about it. Only the Almighty can take away a supernatural being’s ability to wish or miracle. C’mon. Try again.”

_I think we figured it out, angel. Hopefully she’ll be coming down to you now._

_Good luck to you two_ , Aziraphale replied.

Aziraphale was downstairs putting out new inventory so it was easy enough to keep an ear open for the distinctive popping sound that occurred when one transported in. It took a couple of minutes, but he finally heard it. Rowan came out into the bookshop proper from the backroom.

She had grown up a lot. Her coppery strawberry blonde hair fell to mid-back in loose curls and her eyes had settled into a sky blue fading into a gold ring around the iris. Her eye shape was inherited from Crowley, as were her high cheekbones, but her well-defined cupid’s bow and button nose came from Aziraphale. Somehow the mishmash of Crowley’s handsome features and Aziraphale’s more decidedly cute ones worked well on her. She was of average build – neither pleasantly plump like Aziraphale nor rail thin like Crowley. Since both were tall, she was like them in that regard as well, being taller than the average human girl of her age. If that even counted considering she was technically a sexless genderless being. 

“Oh, Rowan! You did it! Great job!” Aziraphale caught her up in a hug, getting in as many as he could since lately she was starting to resist physical affection from her parents. Getting hugs from your parents once you passed a certain age was just not cool, no matter your species.

“All right, Papa, that’s enough, please?” She blushed as she wiggled out of his grasp.

“Rowan, you’re the only child I’m ever going to have,” he said as his excuse. “But never mind that. Transport back up into the flat.”

She screwed up her face with concentration and disappeared. Aziraphale smiled as he got back to work. 

She ended up transporting into the bathroom but she was new at this and that was better than ending up in a less-than-ideal location like the roof or alley out back. 

“There you are,” said Crowley, who had been searching room to room.

The demon had shifted sex and gender again soon after returning their return to London and was currently a rather striking feminine redhead with layered waves cascading to her shoulder blades. It took Rowan some time to get used to, even though this was the parent who could turn into a snake if she so desired. As for her other parent, Rowan had learned Aziraphale was static in his gender presentation, but a lot about the angel tended to be static. If it worked for him, he stuck with it. She suspected he’d wear that threadbare waistcoat of his until Crowley finally convinced him it was beyond saving and coaxed him into going shopping for a new one.

“Papa had to hug me when I showed up,” Rowan complained.

“He loves you more than anything, you know,” Crowley replied as they returned to the kitchen where Rowan was allowed a few more tries before the lesson ended.

“When will I be able to go longer distances?” she asked.

“When you’ve got it down on a level where it’s pure habit,” replied Crowley. “Or at least that’s what I think. I’ve never done this before, as you’re aware. All of us created as angels came into existence knowing how to use our powers. We need a little practice, of course, but we knew what to do and how to do it. You’ve had to learn control and how the processes work.”

“I’m tired of being different.”

“I know, but you won’t be like that forever. There’s already a lot you can do that’s become intuitive,” her demon parent replied. “It’s just these more complicated things that are taking time to learn. I should start dinner.”

She got up to go get pans from the cabinets and ingredients from the fridge. 

“Yeah, I’m always going to be different. I’m stuck in the middle. I’ve never been part of Heaven or Hell. I’ve only visited Grandma on occasion when She hasn’t come down here. That doesn’t count. She has her own part of Heaven.” 

Crowley looked up from setting a pan on the counter. “The boredom you get in Heaven is as bad as the excitement you get in Hell. You’re not missing much.”

“You can say that, you’ve experienced both,” protested Rowan. “I haven’t.”

“And you’ll notice I like it here better,” Crowley replied.

“You got to choose, Mum. I’m stuck here for eternity.” Her chair scraped across the granite flooring as Rowan got up to go sulk in her room. “Literally.”

The demon sighed in response and let her daughter go without mentioning she didn’t have any choice in being created an angel or Falling a demon. She and Aziraphale could only hope that one day Rowan would understand all they went through to get the freedom they currently enjoyed here on Earth and how both Realms would have just used her as a pawn in their quest to finally fight the war they wanted.

Getting on with dinner, Crowley was just putting the chicken on to grill when there was a rap on the door. It had to be Lailah, as she was the only other being besides the three who lived here that could get by the spells used to keep humans out of the upstairs area of the bookshop. 

“Come on in!” she called.

“Hey,” Lailah entered. She had changed her look in the last few years, now sporting hair with dark blond highlights that she wore slightly wavy when she had it loose, which was quite often now.

“Having dinner with us?” Crowley asked.

“Sure. Where’s Rowan?”

“Pouting in her room. Probably best to stay away,” Crowley said as she got other portions of dinner going.

“The whole Heaven and Hell thing again?”

“Yeah.”

“She’s wanting to meet other angels and demons. You know I could introduce her to Ligur and Raphael.”

Crowley was sautéing vegetables as tonight’s meal was simple thanks to the lesson. She turned down the heat and went to get a serving bowl. Setting it down on the counter, she looked at Lailah. 

“They’re adults and she’s a child,” the demon stated flatly. “She’s not going to relate to them. Besides, Ligur’s the very definition of a bad influence. I should know. I worked with that tosser for thousands of years.”

“But they’re what she wants to know about. And maybe she’ll find them boring.”

“Maybe. Now I’d like to get dinner on the table before Aziraphale comes up here.”

“Such a good housewife you are,” teased Lailah.

Moments later, she was hit in the face with an oven mitt.

In her bedroom, Rowan lay across her bed with its bright violet comforter and wished for a real friend who would understand her. She was attending school mostly for the social aspect because most of the skills she needed to survive in this world differed from what human children would require, but she was quickly figuring out that she was worlds apart from humans, just like her parents warned her. Curling around her pillow, the loneliness washed off of her.

Far away from Rowan, something that existed in a very different world felt her loneliness, lifted its head and sniffed.

~*~*~

“They told me to come get you,” said Disposable as they stood before the pen of beasts, one single-mindedly scratching frantically in a corner as if it was trying to get out.

“Beast keeping is not my department,” said Hastur shortly. “That would be Xerus.”

He started to walk away, followed by Ligur, who just grunted at Disposable.

“Xerus buggered off after the whole South Downs incident. Locked himself in his quarters; nobody’s seen him since. They put me in charge of feeding the things and said you could handle this since you were in charge of the hellhound for the Antichrist.” The junior demon was following them.

“Why me?” bellowed Hastur angrily. “I just released the bloody hellhound. I had nothing else to do with it.”

Disposable shrugged. “That’s above my paygrade, sir.”

Ligur tried not to laugh. Oh, what a mess things were in Hell since previous events did not go as planned. Half the time nobody seemed to know what to do or whom to report to. Finally, he spoke.

“They only do this when they want to bond with someone.”

“Yeah,” said Hastur. “Everyone knows that. It doesn’t mean I know how to solve the problem.”

“And we’ve only given a handful out over the years to protect particularly valuable persons who could greatly further Hell’s interests.”

“So?” asked Hastur.

“The last one was given to the Antichrist. And when Crowley was still pregnant with the hybrid, Xerus was thinking about which one to send to the child when they came of age just in case Heaven changed its mind.” Ligur watched the animal dig furiously wondering how long they would be able to contain the hellhound.

“But that all didn’t work out. Isn’t she just another supernatural being now?” asked Disposable, earning him a slap upside the head from Hastur. “Ow.” He ducked as he covered his head.

“She’s the most powerful one to ever exist,” snapped Hastur, then he chuckled. “That must gall the Metatron to no end, the narcissistic bastard.”

“Hell once had high expectations for her. And she’s precocious from what I can tell,” said Ligur. “That hound might want her.”

He had spent the years covertly keeping an eye on the hybrid on the occasions he met up with Lailah. In fact, he had almost become like a secret godfather to the child, making sure everything stayed well with her, even if that meant giving Lailah a little nudge to try to correct things or get her parents to do so. He felt one could never be too careful with that kid. 

“That’s great,” snapped Hastur, lighting a cigarette. “We don’t need to lose another one. Get up there and talk to Crowley. Maybe he can keep it from wanting to bond with his brat.”

“Her. Crowley’s female right now,” said Disposable.

“And for Satan’s sake, tell that wanker to pick a gender and stick with it. I hate their pronouns are a bloody guessing game,” replied Hastur as he stalked off to do more important things.

Ligur prepared to go up to London, Disposable trailing behind him. This was going to be an interesting discussion. Then he paused, shaking his head at Disposable.

“Let’s just wait before we take action topside,” he said. “Maybe we can fix the problem here before resorting saying anything to Crowley and that angel of his . . . hers.”

“Ok,” Disposable got out his tablet. “Whatever you think is right. Shall I start looking into methods on calming down a hellhound?”

“Yeah. I’ll be in the office if you need anything. And if you do, it had better be important. You don’t want to lose another body, do you?”

~*~*~

Uriel found Hastur waiting for her at the lift holding a black cloak and urging her put it on. She did so, buttoning it and flipping up the hood to obscure her face and lighter well-tailored clothing. Only then did he usher her through lesser-used corridors and hallways to Beelzebub’s office. Once there, the door was hastily closed behind her as Hastur left for other business.

She looked at Beelzebub. “Why the secrecy?”

“Rumours spread fast down here,” replied Beelzebub. “I’d rather this meeting stayed just among us in top leadership roles. Why did you request it?”

“You know exactly why I requested it. What are you playing at?” demanded Uriel. “You know things are set up so we’re alerted if you decide to put an hellhound into play and you’re preparing one. Our agreement was we were to be informed of major decisions like that that could upset the balance of things.”

“We didn’t say a word when another one of your angels went rogue,” snapped Beelzebub in reply. “That’s two now that have chosen Earth over Heaven.”

“And you’ve lost that hellhound of the Antichrist’s and Crowley,” argued Uriel, refusing to sit down even though Beelzebub offered her a chair.

“Animals don’t count,” seethed Beelzebub. “It behaves like a dog now, unlike the traitor Crowley who still behaves like a raging arsehole. Everything hellhound about it has been burned away. It retains its immortality and that’s all as far as we know.”

“And the new one?”

“The one we’re trying to keep here in Hell?” Beelzebub asked pointedly.

“Are you?”

“Yes. There is nobody on Earth right now we wish to protect from harm. But maybe it’s after your former field agent’s brat. You know, the end result of the idea of yours that went completely off the rails?”

“Don’t you try to pin that all on us. We consulted with you and your side was on board, remember?” Uriel looked like she could barely contain her rage. “So how’s Satan these days? Rumour Upstairs has it that the Antichrist wished him out of existence.”

“What’s it like having to deal with the Almighty? Especially since She’s on the warpath demoting anyone who messes with her two favourite pets?” asked Beelzebub coyly.

“You do realize She has an eye on what goes on down here.”

Beelzebub furiously bit their tongue. After a rather pregnant pause she pointed to the door. “Get out. Find your own way back to the lift and may the Almighty help you if you run into a few demons who don’t hold with angels being down here. I hope they have another body ready for you Upstairs.”

Uriel resumed her hood, storming out while thanking Heaven above for her eidetic memory.

~*~*~

Lailah was currently at a rather nice restaurant in Chicago with Raphael attempting to get him to decide what deep dish pizza he was going to order. Lailah had developed a love of pizza and by Raphael’s estimation she was ready to try a trip back to America. He had suggested lunch with him so he could be there to help if anything went wrong, but he felt it was time for her to start easing back into travel. She had not left England since he returned her to Earth. In fact, she had not left the cottage’s property there in South Downs and when all of them moved back to London, she restricted herself to the city, usually not leaving Soho, where she rented a flat next door to the bookshop. 

“Stop fidgeting, Lailah,” Raphael said. “You’re fine. I’m here. This is a big city, not some rural town full of fundamentalists. And you’re not powerless. Breathe.”

She took some cleansing breaths like he taught her and smiled at him. “Are you ready to order?”

“Yes as soon as someone gets here to take it,” Raphael replied. “Hell’s apparently planning on releasing a hellhound which means there’s someone important they want protected. Beelzebub denies it. Thought I’d let you know since Crowley’ll be sensitive to it. She’ll blow a gasket so best we’re all prepared in case she wants to try to wage a one-demon war on Hell for interrupting her peace and quiet.”

“How do you find out this stuff?” Lailah asked, having decided a slice of pepperoni deep dish sounded really good right now.

“Uriel still asks Gabriel for advice and Gabriel is a huge gossip. Do you want to go for a walk after lunch?” Raphael asked. “I still haven’t seen that big chrome bean sculpture they have here and it’s been around for like twenty years now.”

“Sure,” said Lailah. “I’d love to go for a walk.”

A server then approached them to take their lunch order. Lailah had a lovely time, but the hellhound information sat in the back of her mind, unsettling her on a subconscious level just a little.

~*~*~

Rowan was down in the bookshop seething in the backroom as she tried to concentrate on her homework. The customers’ quiet conversations among themselves and with Aziraphale were getting on her nerves, but being upstairs while she was in an argument with her mother was not a viable option. Concentrating, she miracled her mobile and headphones to herself, jamming them in her ears before opening her music app and putting it on shuffle. 

_“My teacher wants to meet with you about my maths grade. She says I’m doing exceptionally well and wants to talk to you about allowing me to work ahead of the rest of the class.” Rowan had said earlier while Crowley was watering the houseplants. “And she thinks I have two dads.”_

_“And I can make it so she thinks you’ve had a mother all this time.”_

_“Why?” said Rowan. “Why must you switch genders and styles and everything all the time? What’s the point?”_

_“I like variety.”_

_“I want parents who, like, act normal.”_

_“You really want to go there?” asked Crowley pointedly, putting down the watering can to look at the sullen child slumped on the couch. “We’re not human and we’ll never completely act human because we can’t. There’s only so much of a species one can understand without actually being a part of it.”_

_“All I want is to fit in,” complained Rowan._

_“I understand that feeling all too well, Rowan.”_

_“How? You’re not like me! Nobody is like me!”_

_Crowley sighed. “No. Nobody is, but that doesn’t mean I can’t understand how you feel . . .”_

_“Yeah,” snapped Rowan. “I know . . . ‘cause you got kicked out of Heaven but never were really part of Hell. Blah, blah. You and Papa were never kids. Didn’t grow up on Earth and all that. I gotta go. Homework to do. Maybe Papa can just go to the meeting by himself.” She got up, gathered up her textbooks then stalked out the door and down the stairs to the bookshop. “I’m not you, Mum.”_

_“No, you’re not,” hissed Crowley, who had been rather hurt by the remark about Aziraphale going alone. “And you should be very thankful for that and the fact you’re too young to know exactly the trauma I went through for millennia. But maybe if you did, it would put your life into perspective.”_

_And she stormed off down the hall, not looking back to see her daughter’s reaction. Rowan stood there stunned. Crowley had never gone off on her that badly before. She swallowed down her shock and wondered if her comments went too far._

Aziraphale’s voice broke through Rowan’s concentration. “I didn’t notice you come down. Is there a problem?”

“Mum. She doesn’t understand,” she replied as she popped out one earbud.

Aziraphale sat down at the table across from her. “She understands a lot more than you think.”

“Yeah, six thousands years on Earth. Whatever.”

“You have to give us some wiggle room, Rowan. Please? This all is entirely new territory.”

“Can I go stay at Lailah’s for the night?”

Aziraphale had his reservations, but it appeared Crowley and Rowan both needed time to cool off. “Give her a ring. If she doesn’t mind, then I don’t, either.”

_Crowley? Rowan wants to spend the night at Lailah’s. Do you mind?_

He felt the irritation in her reply. _Fine. Whatever._

Aziraphale decided maybe tonight would be a good night to take the demon out on a date. It had been a while and she had gotten really tetchy lately for unknown reasons. Maybe a bit of pampering would coax some answers out of her. He waited patiently while Rowan was on her mobile.

“What did she say?” he asked as Rowan ended the call.

“She’s ok with it. She said she’d come over and get me in five or ten minutes.” Having said that, Rowan resumed her headphones and turned her music back on.

Aziraphale gave up and went back out into the shop. Why Rowan was on this sullen uncommunicative kick lately was beyond his understanding. He never had a childhood and only intermittently interacted with half-grown people until now. Nothing in his life had prepared him for a precocious eight-year-old and the problems that would arise.

The bell jingled as Lailah entered. “Hey, Aziraphale.”

“I am sorry to ask this of you. She’s being so difficult and with her and Crowley at each other’s throats lately . . .” he shrugged in apology.

“It’s ok. I can take her out for burgers and a movie or something, let her spend the night and get her to school tomorrow. It’s no problem. You two need time by yourselves anyway.”

“Thank you, Lailah,” smiled Aziraphale as he gave her a grateful hug.

She helped Rowan pack some things and they left for the night. Aziraphale went upstairs to see to Crowley after locking up the bookshop. She was in the tub, attempting to relax in the warm water and failing miserably. 

“I know. Rowan told me everything.”

“Ngk,” Crowley replied with slightly exasperated tones. “I can’t seem to relax lately. And Rowan isn’t helping with her constant temper tantrums. Why can’t she act like an eight-year-old human? Warlock was that age the last year I was his nanny and he sure didn’t act this mature, remember?”

“Yes, I do. But you had the harder part. I didn’t spend as much time with him as you did.”

“Maybe we should just age her up. She acts about eleven according to Lailah.”

“No. We can’t wish away the childhood of the only offspring we’ll ever have.”

“That’s selfish, Aziraphale. We already put a glamour on her so she looks older and can attend a higher grade. Can you imagine having a mature mind but being trapped in an immature body?” asked Crowley.

The angel sat down on the lid of the toilet, which only existed because the bathroom was a copy of the one in Crowley’s old flat. “I’m not discussing it. Right now I just want to tempt you to dinner out and some quality time together afterwards.”

“That’s my job, angel.”

“ _Was_ your job. I believe we’ve moved beyond such concerns.”

“True. Where do you suggest we have dinner?”

“I was going to ask you that.”

Crowley splashed around, sinking lower in the tub. “I want seafood.”

“Lobster thermidor at that one place at Covent Garden?”

“Peregrin’s? I was thinking more of trying their dressed crab.” 

“Ok, get yourself out of that tub and put on something nice,” said Aziraphale. “I’ll get myself into something more becoming for fine dining.”

“Grey suit,” called Crowley after him as he exited to the bedroom. “Do not embarrass me with a beige one. They’re for daytime.”

They stepped out of the Bentley some time later, Crowley in a dark grey sheath dress with a neckline and sleeves of lace that complemented Aziraphale’s lighter grey suit with a sky blue tie that matched his eyes. The angel took his wife’s arm as they walked to the restaurant. 

“You look a vision, my dear,” he said.

She smiled as he pulled out her chair for her. “I should be female-presenting more often,” she teased. “You’d pamper me more.”

They dined on a five course meal that included the dressed crab Crowley wanted as well as other types of seafood and shellfish dishes and ended with a desert of bread pudding. They were in the middle of a course of excellent Cornish cod and braised cuttlefish with potatoes and greens when Aziraphale decided to ask Crowley what was up with her lately.

“You seem so on edge. Any reason why?” he asked, as he casually sampled the wine selection served with the course.

“I don’t know,” sighed Crowley. “I honestly don’t know . . . I feel like I’m waiting for the shoe to drop. Like the feeling I used to get when those wankers down there were planning something really devious, but I feel no real malice. Just a feeling of anxiousness coming off of them. It’s not like demons don’t have a thousand reasons to be paranoid. Given the environment, paranoia is quite healthy. It’s probably just some infighting taken to extremes. And that makes me glad we never set up one of those connections like you had with the Host. It would just make that feeling worse.”

“Oh. Need me to take your mind off of it?” Aziraphale gave a wink.

“Now who’s insatiable?”

“But patient. We still have to finish this course and dessert.”

“But of course. Even the promise of sex can’t hurry a foodie.” Crowley resumed eating her cod as if the anticipation wasn’t killing her.


	24. The Target Acquired

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hellhounds are trouble, especially when they have a goal in mind. Crowley realizes what's making her feel on edge. God meddles slightly because She's getting enjoyment out of that lately.

Disposable slammed the heavy metal door shut behind him, muffling the howling that came from the other side. He looked absolutely terrified before his face arranged itself into one of relief. At least this time his body made it out of the room without being mauled by a hungry hellhound. It had gotten to the point that his constant discorporations were a source of amusement for the Department of Corporations. Usually they were stingy with bodies, but became more willing to give him one without too much complaining because he did provide them with entertainment. 

He was sure the same went for his clones, Replaceable and Expendable. None of them could hang on to bodies. Why he split into three separate demons upon Falling was anyone’s guess other than it was probably God’s little joke.

“That ought to hold it,” he said to Hastur who was looking at him expectantly. “I think.”

“I hope so,” said Hastur. “Now just to figure out how to get that thing to stop obsessing about what it can’t have. I want a report by the end of the week. Give it to me or Duke Ligur. Doesn’t matter who.”

He was about ready to head up to London himself to demand the two in exile keep their kid away from it if it happened to escape. It might help the situation if they could flee somewhere the hellhound couldn’t reach them, like holy ground – he had completely forgotten holy ground didn’t exactly agree with Crowley. But Ligur, for some reason, wanted to wait and he was Hell’s unofficial liaison with the Earth-bound supernatural beings these days.

Flicking his dog-end on the ground, Hastur stomped back to his office.

~*~*~

Up in London, two rather amorous beings were blissfully unaware of Hell’s troubles. Right now Aziraphale had Crowley backed up against a handy wall in the lounge, holding her wrists pinned to it as he passionately kissed her, nibbling along her lower lip while she licked his upper one.

“Oh, we’re in that kind of mood,” commented an aroused Crowley as Aziraphale kissed his way down along the side of her neck, creeping up to take her earlobe between his teeth.

“Hush or I’ll stop.”

“No, you won’t. You want this as much as I do. _Oh!_ ” The last syllable was stifled.

He had put a hand over her mouth. “You did show me what a ball gag was. Shall I conjure one up?”

“Might be fun,” was Crowley’s muffled response.

“Incorrigible,” Aziraphale replied as he stripped her of her dress and undergarments right there in the living room, all with a thought. “There, that is much better.” He gave his wife a look of pure lust. “Bedroom. Now.”

“Taking charge, are we?” Crowley grinned. “Yes, sir.”

“Come along.” Not wishing to stand here conversing any longer, he pulled her to the bedroom where he toppled her over onto the bed. “On your hands and knees, please.”

She complied, Aziraphale immediately behind her enjoying how exposed she was in this particular position. He ran a finger along her vulva, feeling the dampness of it as their activities fueled her lust. Inserting a finger between her labia, he found her clit, rubbing it lightly as he spread her wetness around. Pressure increased as he felt her become more physically aroused until soon he could glide a finger across her slit effortlessly. Crowley twisted in response as he teased, the moans escaping her throat sounding low and breathy.

“Hands behind your back.”

Carefully she got herself down off her hands, offering them to Aziraphale as he wished. Grabbing her wrists, Aziraphale swiftly bound them together, leaving Crowley helplessly stuck with her head on the mattress and her bum in the air. He smiled at his handiwork before using Crowley’s predicament to his advantage. Inserting a finger, he found that wonderfully sensitive area that drove her to orgasm nearly instantly. She rode the waves of pure lust that rolled over, setting off sensations of physical passion that raced over her entire body as she struggled against her bonds, rubbing herself wantonly against Aziraphale’s fingers.

“What?” she panted after she recovered. “No foreplay?”

“Just trying something different. I’m going to get ten orgasms out of you whether you like it or not,” replied Aziraphale. “You know what to say if it gets to be too much.”

“Yeah,” she said and he continued, knowing she might very well be too stubborn to use her safeword. He would keep close watch; this exercise was for pleasure, not to drive his beloved demon to the point of torture.

“Nine more to go.”

He rubbed again, sending her over the edge as endorphins rushed her brain and shot through her body. She tried her best to get her hands free, finding he tied them well. Nothing short of a demonic miracle (or maybe a little begging) would undo those knots. She steeled herself for number three as she felt him remove his finger from inside of her only to directly attack her clit, wiggling his finger over it in the gentle manner that always drew an orgasm from her. Whimpering as she squirmed helplessly, wonderful sensations filled her for a third time, leaving her entire body trembling as she struggled a moment to keep herself from tipping over on to her side. By number four, her clit was going into overdrive; Aziraphale could barely caress it before she was screaming at volumes best described as “the neighbours can probably hear you”. Small droplets of sweat formed on her forehead.

“Shhh,” he soothed. “You’re doing marvelously, my dear. You should see how wet you are. Having fun?”

He leaned forward to get a good look at her face and assess how she was doing. So far so good. Her eyes were going glassy showing she was starting to hit an endorphin high as she panted in response to the four orgasms in quick succession. He wiped her own wetness of his finger on to her lower lip before erotically licking it off his own finger himself. Her long tongue flicked out to clean her mouth, smearing her lipstick more than he did with his initial touch. 

Caressing her cheek with a smile, he moved back to his former position, running his hands over her body as he repositioned himself. With a thought he brought into existence a purple clitoral vibrator, perfect for giving his hand a rest while continuing to put Crowley through her paces. 

“My hand’s getting tired. Let’s use this for a couple more,” he said as he gently placed it on her clit, clicking it on. 

With one hand operating that and the other on the small of Crowley’s back to keep her from falling over into an overstimulated pile of quivering demon, he made her come two more times. She writhed against the head of the vibrator, simultaneously wanting more as much as she wanted to withdraw from the buzzing sensations that were driving her mad. Sweat was forming on her body now and the panting she was doing was not slowing down. A whimper escaped her lips once in a while. Inside her head she was riding a high so strong she was only vaguely aware of the outside world anymore. 

A voice cut across the nebulous erotic thoughts floating through her mind. “That was six. Can you handle four more?”

“Yeah . . .” she said dreamily.

Aziraphale was unconvinced but kept going forward with careful monitoring of her reactions. He knew what to look for and would stop if it became too much. Reapplying the vibrator, he touched her oversensitive areas gently a split second before she violently arched her back and shook against it, moaning out a seventh orgasm. She worked her wrists as if she was trying to get them free. Aziraphale kept a close eye on her for this time it produced tears. Several ran down her face and Aziraphale kissed them away.

“You’re doing so well, my wonderful girl. I love you so much.” He took a moment to stroke her damp hair, giving her a bit of a rest. “Can you handle three more?”

She nodded.

“You’re crying, my dear.”

“Good tears,” she whispered.

She rode out two of the last three orgasms without using her safe word, gasping and shaking her way through them as an excess of erotic emotions caused her good crying to continue and put her on a sexual high she like she hadn’t felt in a while. Her body was gone. She could no longer feel the rope around her wrists, Aziraphale’s hand on her back or the vibrator on her clit. She was up on some pink fluffy cloud floating weightlessly in the sky on a sensation of extreme happiness. She didn’t realize how badly she was sobbing into the mattress, wetting the sheets quite thoroughly.

“Just one more,” said Aziraphale.

What entered her was not a rigid vibrator with its mechanical pulsations, but something hard, yet flexible and covered with soft skin. She felt warmth against her arse and on her back. It took several thrusts on Aziraphale’s part before she registered the object filling her as his cock and she started rocking her hips in response, pushing her arse even higher in the air, little erotic sounds breaking free of her throat to tell him she was very deep into their act and enjoying every second of it. 

She was gone by the time he came, her last orgasm taking all sense of coherent thought from her mind.

“Here,” said a faraway voice that she recognized as her husband’s. “Let’s get you untied.”

His fingers gently undid the ties around her wrists and his hands tenderly turned her over. Aziraphale’s strong arms carefully lifted her to one side of the bed so he could turn down the other – looks could be deceiving; he could easily lift her despite his soft plump appearance. Placing her on the cool sheets, now dried with a miracle, with a fluffed pillow under her head, he pulled the blankets over her before caressing her long hair and giving her a soft and proud forehead kiss.

“That’s my dear girl. I love you so much. You did so well for me. Now let me get my clothes off so I can join you.”

He stripped down then dug out a soft satiny pair of pyjama bottoms to put on since sleeping naked was more Crowley’s thing than his. His usual preferred ones of crisp cotton would be too much against Crowley’s currently oversensitive skin. It was probably a good thing Crowley insisted upon satin sheets or the scratchiness of cotton ones would be currently aggravating her.

“Do you need a drink of water before I get into bed?” Aziraphale asked softly.

“No, angel. Need you,” Crowley murmured. 

Aziraphale carefully slid into bed and took her up in his arms. “I’m here. Go to sleep. I’ll see you in the morning.”

“Mmm . . .’kay,” came Crowley’s half-asleep reply as she snuggled in. “You need anything? You didn’t come.”

“I did come, don’t you remember? And I enjoyed very much doing what we did, my love. I don’t need anything else right now.”

Aziraphale knew he’d probably wake up to a blowjob followed by a meal of his and Crowley’s favourite breakfast foods, but he was agreeable to that. They had long ago hammered out the specifics of their physical relationship including waking each other up to sex in the morning. Until then he’d sleep contentedly holding his demon. 

They got a few hours of sleep in before Crowley awoke with a start, sitting up with a jolt that brought Aziraphale quickly to consciousness.

“Oh, fuck,” she said. “Hellhound.”

~*~*~

Ligur came by to inspect the sturdy vault holding the hellhound who so desperately wanted to escape Hell. The awful keening that came from it occasionally followed by scratching was enough to drive anyone in the area very long mad. It seemed like it would hold it but who knew.

“We need to dig the deepest hole possible and bury the vault,” he said to Disposable and a whole crew of junior demons. “I suggest you grab shovels and get to work.”

They all scattered, much to Ligur’s relief.

Beelzebub had joined him, raising an eyebrow in question. “That thing is projecting emotions all over the place. Will burying it really help?”

“No, but digging a large hole’ll keep all of those idiots out of my hair for a long time. I suggest begging some holy water off Heaven and just getting rid of it once and for all.”

“I’ll consider that option,” she replied and headed back up to her office.

Ligur sighed. Crowley had to be told. If he . . . she wasn’t feeling the projections off of it, then she was no longer a demon. He didn’t look forward to that little meeting.

~*~*~

Crowley sat at the kitchen table with a cup of coffee in front of her, Aziraphale seated across from her with his cup of cocoa. A homemade Danish pastry braid sat between them, but even Aziraphale hadn’t cut a slice from it yet even though he did enjoy the experimentation Crowley was doing with baking.

“A hellhound?” he asked, gazing towards the kitchen window that showed it was still dark outside. “I thought we were done with those.”

“So did I,” replied Crowley. “And I don’t want anything to do with this one. I just don’t want to feel it and it’s sorely upset. Hell’s not letting it go to its master.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means they never intended to give it to whomever it thinks owns it now. That’s never happened before. Those things are very obedient. If they’re not commanded to protect someone, as it’s rare Hell does send one to protect a person here on Earth, then they’re used to keep the damned souls in line,” Crowley replied. “I think there have been three that have been designated to protect someone and the last one was Adam Young.”

“I never understood that. There was no huge black dog, just that adorable little terrier.”

“Adam wanted a small dog, so the hellhound became what he wanted it to be. Shape forms nature and the dog went native.” Crowley drank her coffee. “Which is why after six thousand years in human-shaped bodies, we’re not exactly the angel and demon we used to be.”

Aziraphale stared into his cocoa. “So, now what? It’s not our problem, of course, but it sure has you on edge.”

“It had better not become our problem. I’m retired,” said Crowley. “I just need to find a way to keep it from affecting me.”

Something dawned on Aziraphale. “What if it’s wanting Rowan?”

“No.” Crowley slammed her mug down on the table. “I will move this family to Heaven before I allow her to bond with something from Hell.”

“Why not? I did.” Aziraphale waggled his wedding ring at her with a smile.

“You’re not funny,” replied Crowley. “Besides, unlike a hellhound, I wasn’t made there.”

“And what would be wrong with her bonding with a hellhound? Adam’s went native and it’s not a bad idea for a child to have a pet. Although it’s a little harder with Rowan being immortal and all.”

“No!”

“Why not? Our daughter is not going to turn it into something evil,” argued Aziraphale, fiddling with his angel-wing mug as his cocoa cooled.

“Maybe because those things are inherently evil and she’s half-demon. Adam thought he was human and his hellhound a real dog. Maybe I don’t want fur all over the couch. Or it to shred my shoes. And you can take it for walks because so far I’ve lived a dog-poop-free existence and that’s going to continue.” She got up to refill her coffee. “I’ve neve been good with animals, anyway.”

“Crowley, she’s realizing how things are for an immortal in a world full of mortals.”

But Crowley wasn’t paying attention. At the moment she was holding out her hand which her mobile appeared in with a slight pop. It was ringing. She answered it.

“It’s three in the morning, mystery caller. This had better be good.”

“You’re always welcome in My little portion of Paradise. Just let Me know and I’ll get you a key,” said the amused female voice on the other end.

“No thanks, but would You give me some holy water?” Crowley replied. “That’ll take care of the problem and Aziraphale still gets stroppy whenever I ask him for any.” She thrust the mobile at Aziraphale. “It’s for you.”

Aziraphale put it up to his ear, confused. “Uhhh, hello?”

“Hi, Aziraphale. Tell your wife I’ve taken care of her little problem of sensing the hellhound. And My place is always available if you two need a little vacation. Yes, that hellhound is after Rowan and they are rather single-minded creatures. It will hunt her down and do everything it can to bond to her,” said God.

“Yes, Lord. Thank you so much for the offer. What if we don’t want her to have a hellhound?”

“You and Hell are going to have to figure out how to solve that problem. Even I have no idea how to solve that without destroying the beast. Don’t hesitate to call if you need a break away from persistent hellhounds. Do keep in touch. You have been lax on that these last couple of years. If you had, I would have been able to tell you I extended the wedding gift I gave you. Hellfire and holy water will no longer destroy your bodies and push your souls into My Realm to await new ones. Lailah's immune, too, but she doesn't have an immortal soul like you two. She's not exiled and can get a new body easily. Rowan always has been immune to both hellfire and holy water. You might very well need such protections if you’re going to fight against this hellhound. Have a good night.”

“You too, Lord,” replied Aziraphale, feeling awfully silly for saying that to the Almighty despite her informal nature. “Well, your issue with sensing the hellhound should be over. God fixed that. But yes, that hellhound is after Rowan. Now, what do we do about that?”

“Even She didn’t have any suggestions?”

“No. She has no idea. But we, Rowan and Lailah included, now have immunity against hellfire and holy water just in case we need to fight that hound. I had forgotten She made us immune from those back when we got married."

“Great. Even God Herself has no suggestions.” Crowley leaned forward to rub her temples. “Bless us up some holy water, Aziraphale. We’re going to have to hunt that thing down if it gets loose and douse it. No need to worry I might accidentally melt myself.”

~*~*~

Ligur and Hastur stood in Beelzebub’s office giving updates on the hellhound situation, Hastur saying he was confident the vault would hold it and the extra reinforcement they put on it in the last couple of days cut down on the emotional projections coming from it.

“I believe it’s even starting to calm down,” he said. “I had one of the junior demons throw it a couple of raw steaks which it ate this time. That’s a first. It hasn’t had a meal since this crap started.”

“Good,” replied Beelzebub. “Ligur? Did you liaison with Crowley?”

Ligur shook his head. “After observation of the demon Crowley, I noticed they weren’t as affected by the hellhound’s projections, if at all. Since I don’t see how Crowley sticking their nose in this business will be useful, I would like to propose that unless we find out this hellhound is targeting their daughter and problems arise with that, we just keep quiet about it.”

“I agree with you there,” said the Prince of Hell. “The less I have to deal with that demon the happier I am. I have a meeting to attend. You two get back to work.”

The two others left, heading down the crowded dimly-lit hallway to their own offices. Pushing past a lesser demon and giving them a dirty look, Ligur looked around for anyone who might be following them to eavesdrop. The coast seemed clear.

“Think this is the end of it?” he quietly asked Hastur.

“I bloody hope so. Major issue like this getting out and the Almighty hearing about it. Not good. She’s still protecting those two on Earth,” Hastur said back after double-checking for listeners. “It’s bad enough Uriel caught wind of this. If we lose control of things down here, we might have a diplomatic mission of angels breathing down our necks intent on destroying all the hellhounds. How are we going to keep order of the worst souls without them?”

“It won’t come to that,” reassured Ligur. “If worst comes to worst, we’ll destroy the beast. Better to lose one than mess up the balance we have with our old enemies.”

~*~*~

Adam Young was out walking Dog in Hogback Wood when he crossed paths with a timeless woman in a white robe, her grey hair covered in a translucent veil. Pulling Dog up close, he went to sit with her on the fallen log she was seated on upon her invitation.

“Hi, Grandmother,” he said. “Been a while.”

She looked him up and down, a young man of eleven who had decided that growing up wasn’t all it was meant to be. Tadfield existed in a bubble outside of normal time where nobody aged. Adam and the Them had been preteens now for around a decade. 

“Isn’t being eleven perpetually getting a little old?” She asked.

“No. I quite like it. Me and my friends are never gonna to move away from each other. My parents are never gonna die. And this place will just stay happy forever.”

“That’s not how being human works,” his visitor replied. “You’re not Peter Pan. But that aside, I want to give you a heads up on something.”

“What?”

“Someone as unique as you might need some help in the near future. If her parents don’t figure out to bring her to you for advice, I’ll be sending them their way.”

“But nobody’s like me. And what kind of advice can I give? I’m just a kid.” He seemed confused that he’d be able to actually help another out like that.

“You’re not a kid. You’ve been on this Earth long enough you’d be an adult if you let yourself age. Besides, you know quite a bit about hellhounds. She might need a few lessons in them.” The Almighty leaned over to give Dog a few friendly pats before moving on other subjects.

Adam puzzled over anyone needing lessons in hellhounds Her entire visit.


	25. On the Run

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The hellhound finds Rowan. Crowley and Aziraphale take action with Lailah's help, but Rowan has other ideas and people willing to help her.

_Three years later_

Crowley threw up his hands. “What do we have to do to impress upon you that you cannot be using your powers in any way that could cause harm to humans?”

“You’re a demon and you’re saying that,” said a sullen Rowan, who now looked and acted like a twelve-year-old. She had just celebrated her birthday.

Since her corporeal age and mental age had completely gone out of sync, Crowley and Aziraphale had reluctantly decided to that something needed to be done about that and had first frozen her mental development until her body caught up with her mind, then worked a spell on her to slow down her mental aging so it was within a couple of years of her physical age. Otherwise they were going to end up dealing with an eighteen-year-old in a thirteen-year-old’s body. It was just another challenge in raising a child, who by all rights, shouldn’t have existed. If it wasn’t one thing, it was another, but they loved her with all their hearts. Nothing good came without a few hardships.

“Yes, I am on both accounts,” said Crowley as he seated himself at the kitchen table with her.

He had gone back to being male-presenting again after a few years of presenting female, the need satiated for now. It would come again sometime but whether that was two or two hundred years from now, Crowley didn’t know.

“I did have a job to do, it wasn’t a nice job and I did my best to keep the trouble I made to minor irritations rather than outright harm,” he said, trying not to get angry with her. “You cannot use your powers to write “homophobe” across someone’s face in festering boils, ok?”

“It won’t kill her,” muttered Rowan, tracing her finger across the tabletop in front of her.

“You created another mess I had to clean up. You could have made it less obvious, you know,” sighed Crowley, who had had to go locate the girl affected, get rid of the boils and modify the memories of everyone who had seen it.

“She made fun of me for having two dads. She had no right to do that.”

“No, she didn’t, but what you did wasn’t the right thing to do, either. And Aziraphale would have a fit if he knew you were cursing people.”

That struck fear in Rowan’s heart. She was Aziraphale’s little girl no matter what her age and disappointing him was something she took very hard. “You’re not going to tell him, are you?”

“If you keep behaviour like this up, yes, I will,” Crowley replied. “You know the rules. No using your powers to harm anyone and no using them if you could get caught. You’re grounded for the next week. Go do your homework.”

“I was defending you two! And how are you going to explain that to Papa?”

“There is nothing wrong with sticking up for others, but you have to do it the right way,” replied Crowley. “And I’ll tell Aziraphale it’s because you’re mouthing off to me since you insist on doing that this entire conversation. Now go.”

It was harsh, but he could not risk her giving in to her demon side. He knew all too well that little tickle to do mischievous acts that popped up every once in a while. Sometimes his hands just itched to give a bad case of hives to people who texted during films or let air out of the tyres of the inconsiderate loser who thought they could use the disabled parking without a blue badge. He would have given in to that temptation the past, but then he married an angel, had a kid and everything changed.

“This isn’t fair!” 

Rowan stormed off down the hall, Aziraphale entering just as she stormed through the lounge. He peered after her. “Rowan?”

“Let her go,” said Crowley. “I just grounded her for being entirely too mouthy.”

“You? Upset your offspring is mouthy? What is this world coming to?” asked Aziraphale as he hung up his cardigan. 

“I’d say it’s all going to Hell but we know that’s not happening. So, what time are we meeting Lailah?”

“Six, I think. Is Rowan coming or is she going to stay in her room to sulk?”

Crowley sighed as he put away the last of the groceries he had purchased, that had been put on hold for a while after he caught wind of Rowan’s antics and had had to go put things right. Sticking the last box of pasta in its proper cabinet, he went to give Aziraphale a proper greeting. 

He leaned his forehead against the angel’s, arms limply resting on Aziraphale’s shoulders before he twined his fingers in his soft blond curls. He sighed. 

“I’m sorry she’s being so difficult, love. Would you like to just order in? I’m sure Lailah will understand the change of plans.” Aziraphale soothingly rubbed Crowley’s back while they stood by the front door. “I’ll go talk to Rowan, too. I’ll see if I can’t make her see reason here. She’s been getting rather unruly lately and I don’t like anymore than you do.”

Leading Crowley to the living room, Aziraphale gestured for him to sit down on the couch. The demon looked up at him in surprise. “What are you up to?”

“Just relax for a while. I’ll take care of everything. Let it not be said I didn’t learn a thing from our separation. I had an easy day; you didn’t. I’ll call Lailah and tell her to come to the flat instead. Then we can decide what to order for dinner. While we’re waiting for Lailah, I’ll go speak to Rowan. After dinner we can spend some time together. Sound good?”

“Uhh . . . yes. Yes, it does.”

With a smile Aziraphale left him to go phone Lailah from the telephone in the office. “Hello, Lailah. It’s Aziraphale. I’m sorry to call you but we’ve had a change of plans.” He launched into an explanation which she graciously understood.

“No problem. We can order pizza or something and watch a movie.”

“That would be lovely. See you in a bit.”

Next stop, Rowan’s room. He knocked lightly on the door, waiting for her to respond before opening it. “Rowan? Can we talk?”

It flew open. Rowan was sitting on her bed, leaning up against the headboard with her feet up against her chest and her chin on them. Aziraphale gave her a stern look as he walked in to sit at the chair by her desk.

“That was rather uncalled for. Never use your power in anger, my darling.”

“Sorry, Papa,” she muttered before nearly flying over to where he sat to give him a hug. She climbed into his lap, resting her head on his shoulder, a move she only did anymore when she was really in a negative mood.

“What is wrong lately? I know it’s not easy for you, but we just don’t know what to do to help you. What do we need to do for you?”

She burst into tears. “I don’t know, Papa. It’s just so lonely at times. I try to make friends at school but what do they know? They’re just humans. I have wings, and powers and they’re going to have short lives while I’m immortal. Why couldn’t have I been created like the rest of the angels and demons?”

“It just didn’t work out that way. I wish I knew of someone you could talk to. Someone like you.” He brushed a hand through her hair, trying to calm her. Raising a child was turning out harder than he thought it would be. “Maybe we should take a holiday for a while. Get out of the city for a bit. Want to head to the cottage?”

“It’s boring there anymore. Why can’t we go to the Continent? You told me we could travel Europe one day.”

“Well, we’ll have to talk to your dad about that, although I’m very sure he won’t object.”

He felt it before he heard it and knew Rowan did, too. A split second later, an unholy keening filled the flat that made Aziraphale’s blood run cold and his arms clutch his daughter tighter. Rowan’s sucked in a frightened breath before looking at him. The keening sounded again and her eyes grew wide.

“It’s calling to me,” she said. “What is it?”

“Oh, dear.” Aziraphale said as he realized what was happening.

He gently shooed her off his lap so he could stand up. Crowley was going to be marching in here furious, plus, he had to check on the wards around the bookshop. They existed to keep out all supernatural beings except those invited in, including hellhounds. The beast would remain trapped outside. The only problem was that they were now stuck inside. The cottage's ward spells had been dissolved when Lailah started feeling safer after her kidnapping. The concentrated power that comprised them was not good for plants, as Crowley quickly figured out. With Heaven and Hell leaving them alone, he decided it was easier to get rid of the wards than constantly be putting his own miracles into everything that grew there to keep it alive.

“What is it, Papa?”

“It’s a hellhound,” said Crowley who was suddenly in the doorway with Lailah. “And it’s not going to bond with you. Send it away, Rowan. You have the power to get rid of it.”

“But it needs me. And it’ll be mine forever. It just wants to be my friend. I can feel it.”

“Send it away,” repeated Crowley, but Rowan made no move to reject it. Impatient, Crowley turned to Aziraphale. “Get some holy water ready. That beast is not getting near her.”

“No! You can’t do that! Papa . . .” Rowan gave him a pleading look.

“Get her out of here,” growled Crowley. “I hate to say it, but get her up to God’s territory. Lailah, you get the holy water ready.”

The demon pointedly ignored his daughter’s cries of protest as he left the room with Lailah in tow.

“Holy water? Are you sure, Crowley? That’s dangerous for you to be around.”

“Not anymore. We got a call from God. All three of us are immune from hellfire and holy water. Make some and give it to me. Preferably portable.”

Lailah digested the small fact that they were now virtually unable to be killed for a moment before conjuring up a vial of water to bless. The right words said over it and the right gestures performed, she handed it to Crowley who stuck the small vial in his pocket, unconcerned he just was going to casually carry around an item that was previously lethal to him.

“What should I do now?”

“I’m heading down to Hell. You can either join me and enjoy a bit of entertainment, or go Upstairs with Aziraphale and Rowan.”

“I don’t know . . .” she said with a grin. “Going with you sounds like it might be fun.”

“Grab ahold, then.”

He held out a hand to her which she grasped a moment before they sunk through the floor into a different plane altogether. It was a disorienting descent as her mind played tricks on her, making her think that she was being buried alive. She wanted to scream but there was no air here, only the feeling of suffocating heat as they passed from the physical plane to the infernal one. Crowley grasped her hand tighter, feeling her panic as they were pulled towards what felt like the very center of the Earth itself. Just as suddenly, it stopped, leaving them standing still in what appeared to be a poorly-lit waiting area.

“Sorry. Takes a bit to get used to,” Crowley muttered. “Anyway, welcome to Hell. You’ll soon see why I prefer Earth. Let’s go.”

He kept ahold of her hand given the hallways were crowded. Suddenly this wasn’t fun for Lailah, she realized as she pushed her way through crowds of strange-looking demons who were staring at her with everything from curious to hostile gazes. Stepping closer to Crowley, she kept her head down as they moved quickly along.

“Is it always this crowded?”

“Yep.”

“No wonder you like Earth.”

Crowley took a sharp left, dragging Lailah with him. She stumbled, teetering into an upset demon who yelled at her in return. Interestingly enough none of them bothered her further than that, which she puzzled over as they wound their way through dank poorly-lit corridors full of strange motivational posters and even stranger creatures. It was as fascinating as it was terrifying. Heaven was always so pristine and uncrowded by comparison, even though both contained equal populations. She wondered if outside of Hell’s Head Office was just as bad.

“Where are we going?” she asked.

“Beelzebub’s office.”

“Oh.”

They arrived there in good time, finding themselves standing before the scratched and rusted desk that served the receptionist assigned to the Prince of Hell. The demon sitting at it looked blandly up at them from the ancient computer he was using. He looked like he had better things to be doing than hunting and pecking out whatever he was typing on that old noisy keyboard. Crowley guessed it was probably some useless report that would end up being filed away in some rusting file cabinet after moulding away unread on a higher-ranking demon’s desks for centuries.

“You’re not welcome here.”

“You’ll find I don’t care,” Crowley snapped. “Where’s Beelzebub?”

“In a meeting,” the demon replied. “You’ll have to make an appointment and I don’t see an opening on their schedule for the next six months.”

“Bullocks.”

“I don’t care what you think, Crowley. You shouldn’t even be here. You got kicked out, remember?”

“Yes, and it was the best thing to ever happen to me, but I have a bit of a bargaining chip here.” He pulled the vial of holy water out of his pocket.

“You’re bluffing,” the demon replied, but both Crowley and Lailah noticed he sat further back in his seat.

“Is he?” asked Lailah. “Because I remember blessing that water myself.” 

She unfurled her wings, all four of them. Crowley stared at her in open-mouthed surprise. The demon at the desk scrambled back even further, covering his face with a hand.

“All right! Go on it. Don’t let me stop you! Tell Lord Beelzebub it wasn’t my fault; you bullied me into it.”

“You never told me you were a Cherub,” hissed Crowley as they passed by the desk to the closed door beyond.

“It never came up,” she replied innocently.

Crowley banged on it. “I know you’re in there, Beelzebub. We _soooo_ need to talk. I brought a friend and holy water. I don’t want to have to use either.”

Reluctantly, Beelzebub opened the door, slamming it shut behind them. They stood with the desk between them and they guests, even though that would do no good if Crowley and Lailah decided to take any action.

“What is it, Crowley? You have two minutes to explain.”

“There’s a hellhound after my daughter. Care to explain that?”

“Not my fault. We’ve been trying to contain it and so far the vault seems to be working.”

“Not anymore,” said Lailah. “It followed me from my flat to the bookshop and is standing outside of it wanting for Rowan to accept it as its master.”

Beelzebub blanched. “Those idiots let it get away? Some heads are going to roll. But that’s all I can do. I can’t easily recall a hellhound that’s been released. You either let her bond with it or destroy it. I’d prefer you destroyed it since we’re in enough trouble with Heaven thanks to the treaties we signed with them.”

Their hands were angrily clenched into fists as they talked. They were not happy about this turn of events as Hell stood to lose a lot. 

“Ok, then.” Crowley shrugged. “I guess you’re going to be down one hellhound if you can’t control it. I’m not afraid to dump holy water on it. Better yet . . . want to smite it, Lailah?”

“That might be fun,” she replied.

“It won’t help,” said Beelzebub. “It’ll just keep following after your daughter in spirit form.”

“Can’t you people keep track of anything?”

“You should talk, traitor. We were not the ones to lose the Antichrist.”

“I wouldn’t have had you not put such strong defenses on him. I could have found him in a heartbeat if it wasn’t for Hell’s paranoia.”

“Get out of here, Crowley. We’re not here for you to heap abuse upon. I gave you my bless . . . cursing to destroy it. Now go get it done.”

“I want to know how this happened. Hellhounds don’t just arbitrarily pick someone.”

Beelzebub sighed. “We didn’t quite trust Heaven so Xerus handpicked that one to protect the hybrid should Heaven have decided to change their mind about the deal.”

“Hybrid? Nice. She is _my_ child and I’d appreciate it if you would treat her with a bit more courtesy.” Crowley’s tone was ice cold.

“Out! If you want to try to talk to Xerus, be my guest, but good luck. He’s locked himself in his quarters since everything fell apart a second time.”

“No thanks. We know what we’re going to do. Now, give us a pass to transport out of here? I mean, I do have holy water. Do you want me to continue carrying that through Hell? Again?”

Beelzebub sighed. “Permission granted. You have two minutes.”

Crowley snapped his fingers and they returned to the bookshop while the awful keening could be heard before it very suddenly completely cut off. Opening the door, Crowley looked out upon the street to see only humans rushing here and there. The beast was nowhere to be seen. He slammed it shut in frustration.

“Great. It took off. Good thing it can’t track Aziraphale and Rowan to Heaven. But now we’re going to have to hunt it down.”

Lailah sighed. “Never a dull moment, huh?”

“Sure seems that way.”

Crowley collapsed on the couch in the backroom. Lailah moved from window to window peering out of them. There was no sign of the large black dog that paced between them wanting to break through the wards. Where could it have gone?

“Should we fill Aziraphale in on the details?” she asked Crowley, who was leaning back with his hand covering his forehead.

He gave her a glance, looking concerned and irritated at the same time. “Probably.”

“All right. Let’s head up there.”

“You can. I’ll start looking for the damn thing. And Cherub? You’re a Cherub?”

“Yes. Do you think God would have anything less protecting you two? I’ll explain later.” Lailah disappeared with a snap, heading to the building whose lobby was the official entrance to Heaven and Hell. 

Crowley shifted on the couch with a sigh, putting aside the Cherub issue for now. Getting out the holy water, he stared at it for a while before deciding the best place to start was Tadfield. There was hellhound there and they tended to be pack animals. It was worth a shot anyway, since the beast couldn’t get into Heaven and in its loneliness, it would be drawn to one of its own kind. Heading out to the Bentley – he wasn’t going to transport there then have to walk all over God’s green Earth (excuse his turn of phrase) looking for a loose hellhound – he got in and took off at top speed. He’d be there in less than an hour.

~*~*~

Aziraphale was making some tea in the Heaven’s cottage kitchen to calm his nerves when Lailah entered. He turned, surprised to see her here so soon. Putting down the spoon he was using to stir milk into the newly steeped drink, he looked into the doorway, but didn’t see Crowley walking in.

“It’s just you?”

“Crowley’s attempting to hunt that thing down. It got out accidentally because Hell’s been trying to keep it from getting loose. Apparently it was going to be assigned to Rowan. Hell didn’t trust Heaven to stick to the bargain they struck up when they decided to use that pregnancy spell on you and Crowley.”

“Oh. I’m glad the Realms can play nicely with each other,” he said sarcastically. “So we just need to stay here?”

“I guess. I don’t know what else we’re going to do if you two don’t want her bonding with a hellhound. Crowley’s certainly against it.”

“Ok. I guess we sit tight and wait for him.” Aziraphale fiddled with his waistcoat nervously. “Tea or anything?”

“I’m good. Thank you.”

They didn’t notice Rowan listening in the doorway. She slipped off as they sat down at the kitchen table to discuss things further. How could they? How could they decide that this wasn’t a good idea and head off to go destroy the hellhound? What about her thoughts on the matter? She stormed off outside to fume, kicking a few of the flowers off their stems as she passed by the flowerbeds.

“Let’s not abuse the plant life now. It didn’t do anything to you.”

“Grandma?” Rowan looked up.

“It’s in Tadfield. It’s attracted to the other hellhound who resides there and confused about what happened to you.”

“Why are you telling me this?”

“I figured you wanted to know. You seem interested in bonding to it.”

“But Dad seems to think that’s a bad idea. Probably because it’s demonic.”

God shook her veiled head. “It’s not, really. If you want it to be demonic it will be, but that’s not always true. The Antichrist’s hellhound is basically a regular dog. So, want a lift to Tadfield?”

“My parents would kill me.”

God smiled knowingly. “That’s a bit of impossibility.” She held out Her hand. “I’m rather enjoying meddling lately. It’s been too long and there’s someone you should meet, anyway. You’re both lonely for similar reasons.”

They disappeared, reappearing in a wooded setting. Off to Rowan’s right four children played in front of a playhouse-like structure situated in a shallow crater. One of the children sat in a throne-like chair, scratching the head of a small black and white Jack Russel terrier. He was the first to notice their arrival. Getting up, he walked over to where God and Rowan stood.

“Grandmother,” he said with a smile. 

“Hello Adam. This is Rowan.”

Rowan felt him giving her a curious look and stretched out a bit of power towards him. This boy was not fully human. “Hi. Nice to meet you,” she said politely.

“Hi,” he replied. “Just a moment.” He turned to the other children. “I gotta go! My grandmother’s here!” He yelled at them.

“Ok!” the group’s only girl shouted in return. They resumed their game.

“You’re not human, are you?” asked Adam.

“No. I’m immortal, like my parents.”

“You’re . . . different,” said Adam, examining her with more than just his eyes. “You’re like the rest of them but you’re not.”

Rowan understood “them” to mean the other angels and demons of this world. “You’re not quite human. You’re half demon. That can’t be. You’re the Antichrist, but you should be a good twelve years older than me. You should be in your twenties.”

God chuckled. “He prefers to act like Peter Pan. I’ll be over there if you two need anything.” 

She strolled off to sit on a convenient stump, conjuring up a book to read. Rowan frowned after Her. 

“Yeah, She gets involved more now since you were born. She likes messing us about a bit. Keeping us on our toes,” said Adam. “Who are your parents? I only know four, though. There were two of each on at the airbase when the world was supposed to end. I don’t remember names, really. Nobody gave them. Wait . . . the one with a fly on their head called the other demon Crowley and said he was a traitor.”

“Yeah, Crowley’s my dad. Aziraphale’s my other dad. He was there, too. He’s an angel.”

Adam brightened. “Oh, he was probably the other one who talked to me. Blond. Had a bowtie and a flaming sword.”

“Yeah, that would be him. Still has the bowtie.”

Adam laughed. “If it weren’t for their talk, I wouldn’t have been able to put everything right. So, tell them thanks for me. Wanna come sit down?”

“Sure.”

They strolled to the playhouse area where Adam sat on the throne again and Rowan took a seat on a chair-shaped tree root that grew out of the ground. It was rather comfortable despite its looks. She eyed Adam suspiciously though. Other children were not to be trusted in her experience. They would turn on you in an instant if you messed up socially.

“So, why are you still eleven?”

“I want to be.”

“That’s not a good reason. Humans can’t go around being eleven all the time. You grow up.”

“But I don’t want to. I don’t want my friends to go away and grow up and have jobs. They’ll forget about me. And my parents will die.”

“They’ll go to Heaven,” said Rowan with a shrug. “I don’t see the big deal.”

“How do you know? They might go to Hell.”

Rowan sniffed. “What? You think they’re bad people?”

“No. But every religion out there says everyone who doesn’t believe right goes to Hell.”

“You know Grandma. She doesn’t work like that. And I know for a fact there are souls in Heaven.”

Adam thought for a moment. “Ok. But I don’t think She’s really a grandmother.”

“Of course She’s not. Angels and demons were created. She didn’t give birth to them,” Rowan replied with a disdainful wrinkle of her upturned nose. “But She’s the closest thing I have to a grandmother. And we’re the closest things She has to grandkids.”

“I’m human.” 

“Whatever. I just want to know why Grandma wants me to get to know you.”

“I dunno, maybe we should figure it out.”

There were several minutes of silence, interrupted by Dog barking excitedly at something off in the distance. Adam stood up, noticing a spasm in the air. It was just a slight difference but he knew exactly what it was now, unlike the first time he experienced it. His now-developed demonic side readily picked up on it as readily as Crowley did.

“Hellhound. It’s the same feeling I got when Dog showed up. Wait . . .” Adam said suddenly. “Are you being chased by one or something?” He strengthened the barriers around the Tadfield area.

“Yeah. One wants to bond with me. My dad says no.” Rowan kicked the dirt at her feet, frustrated. “I dunno. It happened so fast.”

“Well, I might be able to help you out.” He grinned largely at her. “Dog here just happens to be a hellhound.”

They very quickly segued into a discussion of Adam’s rather unusual pet. Nearby, God kept an ear on their conversation, smiling to Herself as Adam educated Rowan on Dog’s origins and how he behaved these days while another hellhound who wanted its master waited impatiently at the invisible barrier that was keeping it out.


	26. Events at Tadfield

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The hellhound and Rowan find each other. Will they bond or will she send it away?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bentley is in the hospital (non-Covid related). I'm putting up chapters for her, but this is the last one she has written and proofed for this story. I don't know when she'll have the next one ready. It all depends on how she feels and when she can get it to me. There might be a couple-three week hiatus on this and if you make a comment, it might be a while before it gets a response. Thanks.
> 
> -Bentley's husband

At least this time Crowley was driving to Tadfield in a car that was still a car rather than several tons of flaming metal and leather. Panicked, he leapt out and looked around, trying to figure out where a hellhound would go around here, but unfortunately, God meddling with his ability to sense hellhounds was hindering his attempts. Right now he was parked as close to Hogback Wood as he could get and a few miles of wood stretched out around him, making him wish the Bentley was more of an all-terrain vehicle. Time to go hellhound hunting to the best of his now-limited ability. Suddenly he realized it was the Antichrist whom he should locate first before hunting it down. This would go much easier if he could get some help on his side.

The barrier surrounding Tadfield was very visible to his demonic vision. So much for Adam remaining human. He tested it and found it was secure enough to keep him out, at least in human form. It might not recognize the simpler serpentine form that was second nature to him. As much as he hated changing, now was not the time to dramatically agonize about it. His shape rippled, becoming a large black snake with a red underside rearing up in place of where his former form stood. Lowering himself to the ground, he flicked out his tongue, using it to taste the power used to build the shield. It didn’t seem to recognize him in snake form, but that was the beauty of that shape. It was built to be undetectable because God had stacked the deck as much as She could in his favour. With a triumphant hiss he slithered forward.

“Stop, Crowley.”

He paused to look around, his snake eyes lighting on a fly buzzing to the right of his head. It was one belonging to Beelzebub that they sent out for reconnaissance the way a military unit might send out a drone. He was irritated they were here spying around after telling him to take care of the hellhound problem. What was Hell playing at?

“What do you want?”

“To try to collect this thing if you can’t destroy it,” Beelzebub replied. “I’d rather Heaven didn’t learn it escaped. And you don’t need to go in there. It’s stuck outside the barrier. I figured you could feel it.”

“Not this time. She took care of that for me.”

“Oh.”

“Go fetch a few demons and chase the beast down. I’m going to go inside and hope I can hunt down the Antichrist. It’s been a few years so I hope he hasn’t changed too much as he grew up. Make sure he knows what’s going on and doesn’t smite any of you to kingdom come. That would definitely attract Heaven’s attention. I’d rather you two weren’t at each other’s throats because it always seems to interfere with my peace and quiet.”

Beelzebub very badly wanted to smack him for his insolence, but given he was a rather large snake while they were a rather insignificant fly, they kept that wish to themself. Instead, they disappeared back to Hell to wrangle up a crew to solve this issue before they attracted the wrong attention. A few junior demons would be recruited to help get this situation under control. 

Meanwhile, Crowley slithered straight through the barrier only to run into company. Trying to pretend he didn’t see the woman in light grey wearing a white veil, he slithered on by as She read Her book, which appeared to be some trash romance novel. He found he couldn’t get very far with Her hand on his tail. Doubling back, he reared up.

“Just let it happen.”

“Why are you giving advice now?” he asked after he changed back to his favourite shape. “You didn’t three years ago.”

“I’ve watched your daughter get lonelier and lonelier. She needs companions, preferably ones of not only her own age but immortal as well. That greatly limits the pool,” God replied. “Your husband was right. A pet would be good for her and I tried leaving you two alone to figure it out. It’s not inherently evil unless she would want it to be. And Rowan just wants a friend, not a dog who will help her dominate the world.”

“You’re all against me.”

“It’s not about you, Crowley. It’s about her. Besides, getting her down here gave me the opportunity to introduce her to someone as unique as her.” She pointed towards the children in the distance talking while a terrier ran excitedly around the area.

“Rowan’s down here? Who’s that with her? He looks like Adam Young.”

“He _is_ Adam Young. He may have become human after the failed Apocalypse, but he can’t just shuffle off his power like he thought. It lay dormant for a while, then he began to realize what he was . . . immortal. Time here is frozen because he fears his friends and family dying while he continues on. He’ll lose everyone in his life. They’re all temporary but Dog.” She stood up, brushing a dried brown leaf off her dress. “Two unusual immortal beings. One wasn’t meant to exist in the form he does now and the other wasn’t meant to exist at all. Let them have each other. Imagine how lonely life would be without Aziraphale.”

He looked over at the children, who were now laughing together. “Yeah, I’d have nothing without Aziraphale.” Turning back to God, he noticed she was gone. “Ngh . . . figures.”

He made his decision. Looking at the kids, he figured they’d be safe here under the dome. Adam wasn’t letting the hellhound in and right now they were both distracted by whatever they were conversing about. They would be safe for the few moments he was gone. Yet he hesitated. 

“Go,” said God’s voice. “I’ve got this covered. Fetch Aziraphale and get back down here.”

Unfurling his wings, Crowley shot up towards the sky, eventually reaching the ethereal plane and disappearing from view. Rowan was so caught up in her conversation with Adam she didn’t notice the tell-tale popping sound of one of her parents transferring from one Realm to another. 

~*~*~

Lailah had made her decision not long after speaking with Aziraphale. She was heading back down to Earth to give Crowley some backup. Right now she was sneaking into the nearest armoury to grab herself a sword, thinking that Rowan was with Aziraphale. Hefting up one that wasn’t too long or too heavy, she swung it around herself in some elaborate swordplay. One never truly forgot that one was, before all else, a soldier. Even Aziraphale, soft and very happy with that state after his six millennia on Earth, would have reverted to his warrior roots almost immediately had he joined Heaven’s Army all those years ago instead of defecting to try to stop the Apocalypse. Satisfied, she grabbed a sheath, strapped it on and slid the blade into it.

Manifesting her wings, she took off at top speed for the nearest exit. Hopefully nobody would notice she had armed herself. Armouries generally weren’t guarded – who in Heaven was going to steal? – and it was pretty much abandoned out here near God’s section. Most angels lived and worked around the building that housed Head Office. The Almighty preferred a nice spot in the countryside far away from the bustle of the city that sprung up when the whole playing-harps-on-clouds motif gave way to human-like organization complete with buildings to go with the endless departments.

Nobody stopped her. Nobody was out here to care. They were all off being cogs in the machine that made up the stupid bureaucracy around here. She came to an exit and took it. Soon, she was gliding over the shield protecting Tadfield its sharp edges almost glowing to her angelic vision. Staring down at it, she wondered if she could get through or if it would just discorporate her, hopefully rather quickly and in a relatively painless fashion. Then her eye caught the hellhound pawing at the perimeters and she landed several metres from it, green eyes blazing as she brushed her long hair out of her way.

It focused on her immediately, its red eyes flaming and its white teeth standing out sharp against its black fur. She swung the sword at it, not igniting it yet. It was so far just a demonstration that she did know how to wield it competently. Growling defensively, it stayed well out of her range.

“Go back to Hell,” she growled back at it. “Oh, where’s Crowley with that holy water?”

“Posturing won’t get you anywhere,” said a new voice behind her. 

She didn’t turn around to see who it was, but it sounded like there was a hint of a buzz in the speech, which meant Beelzebub was here. “Who said I was posturing? I _do_ know how to use this thing.”

“Discorporating it won’t help matters any,” Beelzebub snapped. “If you really want to help, drive it towards those bushes over there. There are some demons waiting to capture it.”

She ignited the blade, swinging it expertly at it like someone who had been practicing the art of sword fighting diligently for many years rather than like an angel who had worked a job that didn’t require a weapon for the last six millennia. The hellhound backed up a step; its snarl showing off teeth that Lailah didn’t want anywhere near her. She kept her distance but kept driving it towards the bushes. Beelzebub joined her, wielding some kind of mace-like weapon.

“Will you stay away from me, please?” Lailah snarled angrily. “I really don’t want to get hit with that thing.”

The demon backed off, giving themselves room to swing, if needed.

Slowly, slowly, the hellhound was backed towards the bushes and the net that awaited it. Six junior demons, all recruited despite their fear of the creature, all concealed as best as they could be by the foliage, held it open and hoped the beast would not put up a fight. Hellhounds were particularly strong and nobody looked forward to a mauling even if they could obtain a new body. Spread out with the net stretched as far as they dared, they stood as ready as they would ever be.

Instead the hellhound decided to fight its way to freedom. With a snarl, it leapt forward towards Lailah who reacted by unfurling all four of her wings. She shouted as its front paws landing on her collarbones, pushing her to the ground with a grunt. Struggling, she pulled up her sword to keep it from sinking those sharp teeth into her throat.

It was using its powers against her, trying its best to get past her weapon as though it thought that Lailah was singularly responsible for keeping it from Rowan. The flaming sword didn’t help absolve Lailah, either. Adding fuel to the fire, its presence drove the hellhound to greater fury. Those long teeth wanted very badly to rip her to shreds. Lailah poured all the power she had as a Cherub into her physical strength, using the sword to keep the hound away from her neck. She turned it sideways to protect her own throat, grasping the blade with a moan as the flames licked across her hand.

Holding on to the flaming blade wouldn’t cause her to discorporate, but it hurt like hell and she would be left with a serious burn as well as a cut from the sharpness of the metal. Still she gritted her teeth and hung on, forcing the sword towards the hellhound’s neck. Anything was better than being ripped apart. Tears formed in her eyes and she sent some of her healing abilities to her hand to at least dull the pain as her biggest worry became involuntarily dropping the sword due to the agony. She might have still been a part of Heaven, but it would mean a lot of grief to requisition a new corporation if she managed to get herself discorporated by a hellhound. After all, she had quit her job and decided to go live permanently on Earth with two traitors. That was not going to win her many friends Upstairs.

Elsewhere it was calm. Inside the shield, the two children still talked, sitting on the log while Rowan petted Dog and examined him. She looked him over very carefully, noting he was nothing like what Crowley’s descriptions of hellhounds had been. She knew a lot about Hell despite having never been there. The dog before her was as Earthly as any she had come across in her life to the point of behaving like one. This was no fearsome worrier of damned souls.

“He’s just a regular ol’ mutt,” Adam said. “Not evil at all, but I wanted a regular ol’ dog, not a hellhound. They become what you want them to be because they want to please you.”

“My dad’s afraid because I’m half demon that it would be bad for me. He wanted me to send it away.”

“Well, what do you want?”

“A friend.”

“I’ll be your friend,” said Adam brightly. “And I’ll introduce you to Pepper and Brian and Wensleydale. They’re my other friends. They’ll like you.”

“But you all won’t grow up and I will.”

“Yeah. . . but we can be friends for a while.”

“You should grow up and let your friends, too.” Rowan smiled and held out her hand. “We can grow up together, you and I. I’m immortal just like you. I won’t leave like humans will and I feel I like you already.”

Adam just smiled nervously, looking down at the hand she had extended. “OK, would you let me think about it?”

A sudden wave of anger reached them from the hellhound. Rowan could feel it getting frustrated, preparing to attack and then it leapt at exactly the wrong person. Rowan’s eyes widened, her pupils dilating in fear. She started to breath heavily as her system panicked, bring her automatically to her feet as it sought out a position from which she could break into a dead run.

“No! It’s after Lailah! Why is she here? I need to go! I need out of here!” 

She was sprinting towards the barrier as fast as she could, Adam and Dog chasing after her. 

“I’ll open it. C’mon!” He sprinted slightly ahead of her, leading the way to the edge of Hogback Wood where the shield shimmered before it disappeared leaving the woods open and unprotected. 

He could see the hellhound standing on the chest of a woman-shaped being wielding a flaming sword. Only she was gripping the sword horizontally with one hand on the flaming blade kept it off her neck. Nearby was the demon with the fly on their head who had been at the almost-Apocalypse, holding a mace, but seemingly afraid to use it. Landing nearby were the angel and the demon who talked to him before he stepped up to defy Satan himself. The demon appeared to be holding something in his hand and was shouting at the fly demon to get back.

“No!” Rowan screamed loudly enough to stop everyone dead in their tracks, including the hellhound. “Come here!” she commanded.

It jumped off Lailah and trotted obediently over to her. Crowley clenched his fists to see that occur, the vial of holy water nearly breaking in his palm. Aziraphale was immediately by Lailah’s side, helping her off the ground and inspecting her injured hand while watching the rest of the drama occurring out of the corner of his eye.

“Rowan, don’t do it,” Crowley said sternly. “You don’t know what you’re getting into.”

“I do, Dad,” she replied, tears building up in her eyes. “Adam told me everything. I can make it work.”

“You need to send it back,” snapped Beelzebub. “This will break all our treaties with Heaven.”

“They won’t know,” Rowan said to her.

“What are you doing to do about it, kid?”

“I’ll make them forget. I can do that because I have the power to,” Rowan replied, idly touching the black head of the large dog in front of her. “They’ll think you caught it and that my parents got me a pet that’s all. I’ll make them think she’s just a dog. Go away.”

“You think you can . . .” Beelzebub didn’t get far before they was interrupted.

“Go away!” This time it was a command, not angry words out of the mouth of a child.

With a signal from the Prince of Hell, the junior demons sank into the ground, the Earth swallowing all of them before healing like it was never disturbed. Beelzebub followed suit with a glare towards Crowley. “You will pay dearly for it if Heaven finds out this hellhound got loose.”

“I’m not too worried,” said Crowley in his usual flippant manner. Somehow he believed Rowan would have the ability to shield her new pet’s true origins from prying eyes. “Must you do this, Rowan?”

“Yeah,” said Adam as he watched the girl embrace the dog. “They belong together. I should know.”

Before their eyes, the hellhound transformed into a bi blue Shetland sheepdog with stunning azure eyes. Its coat was of a gorgeous long-haired fluffy blue merle interrupted only by a white ruff and paws. Rowan kneeled before her hugging her tightly, the rest of the world shut out of this moment. The dog allowed her, only thumping her tail against the ground in response as if she wasn’t moments earlier a killer beast whose one thought was to maul whomever stood between her and her owner. The others present could almost physically feel the love between the two. It was a hard-won bond.

Crowley stared in disbelief at the Sheltie sitting beside his daughter on the receiving end of her affection. “It’s a dog. Just a dog and nothing more. Even I can’t detect any hellhound about it”

“It’s reality, Crowley and young Rowan can do what she wants with that,” replied a voice in his ear. God stood beside him with a slight smile.

Didn’t he say something similar to Aziraphale years earlier? Crowley swallowed an annoyed growl. “Why didn’t you tell us everything would turn out all right? Why the need to send us all on wild goose chases then change the ending to your liking?”

“I let you follow your own path until in started to interfere with Rowan’s. And when you couldn’t see it’s about her, and not what you think and feel about hellhounds, I intervened a bit. She still had the choice to reject it. I only introduced her to someone who could help make it what she wanted it to be.”

She disappeared, everything having been handled nicely here.

Crowley made a disgusted noise and stalked off to join Aziraphale who was standing by Lailah, concentrating on her wounds. He looked up briefly and smiled reassuringly at Crowley’s approach. Aziraphale put a calming hand on his husband’s shoulder for a moment before turning back to tend her wounds which he had half healed already.

“Just a moment, my dear. Flaming sword burns are particularly difficult to heal. I need to concentrate.”

Crowley took Lailah’s uninjured hand in his own as support and let his husband work, a small gesture to show he was concerned despite his own overwhelming feelings. There was little else he could do as Rowan was too busy with her new companion to want or need him around. Lailah smiled at him while Aziraphale worked on her injured hand. The skin was returning to a normal state and the burning pain ebbed as he poured healing power into it.

“It’ll be all right, my dear.”

“I’m not walking that dog.”

“I don’t think you’ll have to worry much about it. But I think we are going to have to schedule time for her and Adam to get together. I believe there’s a friendship forming there.”

“I’ve noticed.”

“You should be happy for her, Crowley. She deserves this because she’s been miserable way too long.” Lailah cocked a cheeky eyebrow at him. “Hey, her being happy means not having to deal with her blowing up all the time. Isn’t that what you want?”

Aziraphale released Lailah’s hand with a gallant kiss. “There you are, my dear girl. It should be as good as new now.”

“Thanks.” She flexed it and gave him a sisterly hug. “I don’t think I could have held it off without being a Cherub. Pretty strong beast. One time my rank actually came in handy.” 

Crowley cuddled in close now that Lailah’s healing was finished, all but begging for attention after an emotionally trying time. He needed the comfort badly. The whole idea of living with a hellhound had him anxious and Aziraphale could all but physically see the worry pouring off his husband. He pulled him in close, inviting him to rest his head on his shoulder. Crowley nuzzled into his hair, smelling the lavender, vanilla and sandalwood scents that made up Aziraphale. The demon instantly relaxed. 

A few steps away, Adam and Rowan were speaking about her new companion, who was now excitedly jumping around Dog, who was just as excitedly bouncing around her. They watched the two of them go around and around in a kind of joyous canine dance of exhilaration. Adam shoved his hands in his pockets.

“You need to name him,” he said to Rowan.

“Her,” Rowan corrected. “I think Silver will do. It’s not an evil name or anything and it looks like her coat.”

Adam nodded. “That’s a good one. Saves a lot of trouble naming her after her colour. I think she likes Dog.”

“Yeah.”

“Ask your parents if you can come back this weekend or something. I’ll introduce you to my friends.”

Rowan smiled. “Ok, I will.”

By the time the family got ready to leave with its newest member, Rowan had gotten Aziraphale to agree to bring her down over the weekend with Silver so they could spend time with Adam and Dog, and meet the rest of the Them. Waving happily at her new friend, Rowan climbed into the back seat of the Bentley with Lailah and Silver. Adam waved back, shouting that he would see her soon.

Later, at Tadfield’s ice cream shop, Adam caught up with his friends. They stood outside, each with their favourite flavour, licking the drips off the cold cones and discussing the events the other three missed out on. Wensleydale was awfully glad that he wasn’t there for the drama, Pepper was furious and Brian would have been happy just to observe it.

“You could have let us stick around to help,” admonished Pepper.

“There was nothing anyone could do, but Rowan. She had to handle it, just like I did with Dog,” Adam explained. “I can’t tell you anything more than that. It’s one of those things.”

“Is she really not human? Like really an angel?” asked Brian.

“Yeah, really.” Adam licked a drip before it ran off on to his hand. “Half and half. She’s part demon.”

“How is that possible? Angels and demons just _are_. They don’t get married and have kids like people do. If they’re even real.” This whole idea was testing Wenselydale’s sense of logic. It was one thing to imagine something, another to declare it real. The events of the failed Apocalypse were fuzzy in his mind, as they were for every human who was on the tarmac that fateful afternoon.

“They’re real,” asserted Pepper. “Adam’s met them, haven’t you?”

“A couple of times now. And don’t ask how they ended up with a kid. I don’t know. It wasn’t like they explained it to me. But she’s nice and you lot should make her feel welcome. She needs friends.”

With that, he was quiet on the issue. The Them ate the rest of their ice cream in silence, deciding afterwards to ride their bikes through the village and woods before they were all called home for dinner. Adam spent the entire ride wondering if Rowan had a bike and if she did, if she enjoyed riding it. 

He found it rather exciting having a new kid to get to know. He loved his little group of friends, but one of the dangers of freezing the time in your area was nothing new could happen. No new residents moved in. Nobody left. There were no new acquaintances to make or gangs to fight. Adam suddenly found himself feeling rather bored. Maybe his Grandmother was right and this wasn’t the best way to live his life. He pondered that as he peddled home after the bike ride to wash up for dinner.


	27. A Best Friend

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A friendship develops between Rowan and the Them, but it has rocky beginnings.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also out this week is my fic for the Good Omens Mini-Bang, [A Delicate Dance](https://archiveofourown.org/works/25464568/chapters/61767346). It's 1929 and Aziraphale ends up possessed. Now it's up to Crowley to save him and deal with the aftermath of secrets revealed . . . all while racing against Heaven finding out and with Hell breathing down his neck to take care of it before they're blamed! NSFW.

“I’m not being stupid. You’re the one who doesn’t get it!”

“It doesn’t make any sense, so how can _I_ be stupid?”

“It makes perfect sense, so shut up about it!”

Rowan looked from one of the Them to another, not quite understanding how friends could spend all their time shouting at each other. That wasn’t what friendship was, was it? She suddenly felt very awkward and not very human at all.

“Hey!” Adam’s voice broke in. “I don’t see why aliens can’t disguise themselves as cows if they want to. Anyway, this is Rowan . . . do you even have a last name?”

“No, not really,” she replied as Silver took off to greet Dog. The two canines yapped and play bowed at each other repeatedly, their hellhound origins certainly not showing in the least.

“Anyway, this is Pepper. And Wensleydale. And Brian.” Adam pointed to them in order, the three giving little unsure waves in return. 

Rowan noticed and wondered if the wanted her around. Maybe she was interfering with a clique who didn’t need a fifth member. Awkwardly, she moved from foot to foot as she waved back at them. “Hi.”

“What do you mean you don’t have a last name?” demanded Pepper. “Everyone has a last name. What about school?”

“I use a fake one like my parents do when they need to be more human.”

“What is it?”

“Does it matter?” Hellfire raced along Rowan, coating her from fingertip to fingertip, licking at her shoulders for a moment before she regained control of herself. “It’s not my real last name and I don’t have to talk about it.”

The other children, except for Adam, stepped back from her in fear. Wensleydale stared at the ground uncomfortably while the other two never broke eye contact with her. Adam, looking concerned about this fragile introduction, opened his mouth to speak but for once didn’t get the words out. Rowan spoke over him.

“Excuse me. I should see to Silver.”

“You didn’t need to do that,” Adam said to Pepper, watching Rowan go.

“We’re fine, Adam. We don’t need another gang member,” she protested, shrugging irritably at the thought of some strange kid invading what was theirs. 

“She seems nice,” said Wensleydale who was dragging his toe through the dirt of the forest floor. 

“She is nice and she needs friends,” replied Adam rather strongly. “If you don’t wanna be her friend, then you can just go home.”

Pepper opened her mouth to reply, but with the rest of the Them staring her down, she just furiously snapped it shut and crossed her arms in anger. She enjoyed her position as the only girl in the Them and she wasn’t happy some possible usurper was being allowed to join the gang that had been the four of them since the very beginning. Finally she pulled together the courage to reply.

“Maybe I will go home.”

“Don’t be like that,” said Brian. “Give her a chance. It’s not like she’s going to be around all the time. She lives in London.”

“Ok, I’ll stay.” But Pepper did not look happy about it. She stood with her arms crossed, an annoyed look on her face.

“If you do, you’re going to be friendly,” Adam said. He made eye contact with Pepper, whose facial expression turned to furious for a moment before she quickly looked away. “I’m going to go fetch Rowan.”

He jogged of towards the direction that Rowan took Silver finding them a ways off walking together through the trees, spots of sunlight hitting Rowan’s strawberry blonde hair, leaving shining reddish gold patches along her head. He stopped for a moment to look at her as she bent to ruffle the fur of her dog noticing she was already good with Silver even though they had only bonded a few days ago.

“Rowan?”

She looked up at him; her head cocked to one side as she nonverbally questioned why he had come after her. He approached her, brushing some of his curly light brown hair out of his face with a grin. He shrugged, butterflies in his stomach like he had never felt before. 

“Hey, how’s it going? You’ll have to forgive Pepper . . . it’s just that . . . we’ve never really had anyone join the gang. We all met first day of school and have been together since. Just us.” He looked into her sky blue eyes with their strange rings of gold around her pupils. “I told her to be nice or go home.”

“They’ll be afraid of me. I just burst into hellfire there. No kid can do that.”

“I found it pretty neat.”

“You’re the Antichrist. You at least understand.”

“Got any other cool tricks?”

“I can turn into a snake if I want. Really, I can turn into whatever I want, it’s just the snake form comes naturally. I have wings and can fly. I have powers like all supernatural beings, but unlike the ones Grandma created, I have to learn how to use them.”

They had started to walk back to the other kids, Rowan going with Adam reluctantly. She still wasn’t sure they wanted her around and at this point she’d rather just get to know Adam first then the others. Less overwhelming. But here she was standing in front of them again trying to start over and hoping it just wasn’t another awkward moment like she was used to with human children. 

Brian was explaining to her their game.

“We were just playing that aliens have invaded but they don’t want humans to know they’re here so they’re pretending to be herds of cows as a disguise. They’ll attack at midnight when everyone’s sleeping,” said Brian.

“I still think that’s stupid,” retorted Pepper. “Why would advanced aliens want to disguise themselves as something as dumb as a cow? Haven’t you seen cows get their heads stuck in a fence? They’re pretty thick.”

“They’d just have to pretend to eat grass or lay around or something. Maybe moo once in a while. Nobody would notice anything different if a cow didn’t happen to get its head caught in a fence,” Brian argued back.

“It’s true,” supplied Wensleydale. “Most of the time you see cows grazing or chewing their cud. It’s rare to come across one stuck in a fence.”

Rowan just blinked. Was this was it was like being in a group of human friends? She felt exhausted. Adam noticed and put up a hand. The Them stopped talking and focused on him.

“Why don’t we just go sit down and talk? Get to know Rowan and she can get to know us. “He beckoned them to follow him back to their clubhouse. 

They arrived and Adam dug around in the pile of items they kept there just in case they were ever needed for an imaginative game to find an extra milk crate. Setting it in the space between his chair and the seats where the rest of the Them sat, he invited Rowan to sit on it.

Pepper’s curly black ponytail flicked back as she saw the favour Rowan was being shown and she flounced to her crate. She sat there, brown eyes glowering with her arms crossed.

“I don’t believe you’re half angel an’ half demon,” she said. “How does that work? Angels and demons are different.”

“No, the only difference is who they work for. Demons used to be angels.”

“Yeah, but they don’t have babies. And I saw your parents. You have two dads.”

“I have two _parents_ ,” Rowan replied. “They don’t have a fixed sex or gender like humans so my dad, Crowley, did get pregnant. What of it?”

“Pepper, that’s enough,” warned Adam.

“I think it’s fascinating,” said Wensleydale. “I didn’t believe in angels or demons until you showed up today with your parents. I might have to rethink my views on witches.”

Brian just nodded in agreement.

“Uhh, thanks,” said Rowan. She awkwardly petted Silver, wishing she could just spend time with Adam rather than his friends as well. 

“My family’s not exciting. Just a regular ol’ family,” said Brian. “Except the dog doesn’t like me. Pretends I don’t exist.”

“My dad’s an accountant and my mom’s an IT person,” said Wensleydale. “What do your parents do? Do angels and demons do anything?”

Rowan shrugged. “Papa owns a bookshop and Dad just keeps everything else going, I guess. He doesn’t work, but he’s a demon so he’d make a lousy employee, I think. Before they got kicked out of Heaven and Hell, they worked for the two Realms tempting and doing good deeds.”

“This is just odd,” muttered Brian, fascinated.

“And what kind of wings do you have? Because angels have bird wings an’ demons have bat wings. It doesn’t work,” said Pepper.

“That’s human mythology. Angels and demons both have feathered wings.” She pulled them into physical plane as the children gasped. “See? Feathered.” 

She put them back away as Silver barked and Dog joined her. Rowan pulled her pet closer, hauling her into her lap the best she could so she could hug her. The feel of warm fur on her cheek helped out immensely. Silver licked her nose in sympathy.

The conversation continued to be awkward and Rowan was painfully aware of how it centered on her and how different she was from the others even though Adam steered it in different directions several times. After a while it always drifted back to her. She was relieved when one by one the Them headed home, too chilled by the February cold to continue. 

“I don’t know about this. They don’t seem to like me.”

“They will,” said Adam confidently. “Pepper’s slow to accept change, Wensleydale is the logical one so he’s going to have to suss it all out and Brian’s usually pretty agreeable.”

“Well, you guys have been together for like years and years. It was just like this when I started school but Papa said I need to continue so I could learn better how to fit into human society. I only have a couple of friends and they’re not close friends,” replied Rowan. “What’s the point when they’re going to grow old and die while I keep on going?”

“I know.”

“But you can’t keep your friends at eleven forever because you’ll get lonely.” Rowan picked up a stick and threw it. Silver raced off like a shot, tongue hanging out of her mouth excitedly.

Adam was fiddling with the rope that hung in the clubhouse, obviously deep in thought. His fingers worked over a knot in it while Rowan watched him, waiting for the return of her dog. Finally, he set the rope aside and looked at her solemnly.

“And we don’t know if we’re going to be friends forever. Forever’s a long time.”

“No, but we have the chance to find out, right? Oh, I think there my parents are coming.” She reached into her pocket and pulled out a mobile that hadn’t been there before. It contained her mobile number in the contacts; the only contact the mobile had. “You do know how to use one of these, don’t you?”

“Yeah, but I don’t think they’re necessary.”

“It’s just so we can stay in touch, ok? It’s easier than me trying to pop down here and finding you’re off at a film with your parents or something. It has my number programmed into it.” 

She thrust it at him then called to Silver and started to head off where the light and dark figures of her parents. He looked at her confused as she turned back to him one more time.

“You’re the Antichrist! I’m sure you can keep a mobile a secret if you need to!” she called.

Smiling, he pocketed the thing and went to fetch Dog, who was busy chasing rabbits over by some fallen logs. The two of them headed off together, slouching towards town with a detour through the barren apple orchard he stole fruit from in the fall when the branches were laden. Right now, he was thinking less about apples and more about the feisty girl-shaped supernatural being who had suddenly come into his life. 

Rowan was bounding off towards her parents feeling a little bit happier. She’d get Adam to see it would be better to allow them time to continue in the manner it was supposed to, or at least she hoped. He appeared to be her one chance at a human-shaped friend. 

“How was it, my darling?” Aziraphale asked her when she finally caught up to them, Silver bounding afterwards.

She shrugged in typical twelve-year-old fashion. “I think we can make it work.” She paused. “I mean, I like Adam and he likes me. We could be friends, but the other three seem more interested in what I am than who I am. I wish we could have kept all that a secret.”

Crowley, hands shoved in his pockets, was glaring at Silver, who was sniffing around his snakeskin boots. “Humans are curious. Sometimes it’s a great thing and sometimes it makes you want to curse them, but you don’t have permission to do that. C’mon, let’s head back home.”

He walked off with Aziraphale and Rowan in tow, anxious to get back to London because this small town stuck in time creeped him out terribly. The Bentley wasn’t far, much to his relief. The sooner they left, the happier he’d be. Time was supposed to march forward; that was the whole point. He could feel it stopped around him as could Aziraphale, even though it didn’t bother his husband as much, but the angel saw positives in almost everything.

“We can come back another time,” Aziraphale said to their daughter.

Crowley sighed softly to himself as they approached the black silhouette of the Bentley. Between the near-end-of-the-world, his car catching on fire, hellhounds that he now had to live with and the unpleasant feeling of being inside a bubble of stopped time, he’d rather forget about Tadfield’s existence.

~*~*~

Lailah could see the lights come on in the flat above the bookshop from her own flat. Raphael noticed her looking and flicked the curtains shut with a hand gesture. She turned to him, an annoyed look crinkling her brow and making her green eyes snap.

“Let them be for tonight. I expect there’s a lot for them to talk about. First real friend Rowan’s had a chance to make, right?”

He set the pasta they made together on the table. Both had decided to start learning to cook since Raphael was spending more time on Earth these days. He and Lailah had built up quite a friendship so spent a lot of time in her company. By extension he was also spending a lot of time in Aziraphale and Crowley’s company, to which Crowley was becoming more tolerable. 

“I want to know how things went,” she replied, sitting herself at the kitchen table with a bit of a sulk.

“You will in good time.” Raphael set a glass of red wine in front of her.

Lailah persisted, serving them both pasta while Raphael brought some warm garlic bread to the table. “It’s just that she needs a normal life.”

She looked at him as he sat down. He was growing his dark hair out long, giving him sort of a rakish look. Lailah suspected he was influenced by Crowley, who kept his lovely mane at a length that brushed his shoulders mostly because Aziraphale so enjoyed playing with it. Crowley often wore it in elaborate braids and styles courtesy of his husband. Neither one of them cared too much if the style was more appropriate to a female-presenting person in society’s eyes.

“Yes, she does, but can we talk about something else? You’re obsessing here and that’s not good. I know you’re all close, but they need their breathing space.”

“Ok. So, what’s the latest gossip from Upstairs?”

“Metatron’s getting some of his duties back, but he’s no longer the Voice of God. Gabriel did a mission or two to try to chip some time off his probation,” Raphael replied. “But he’s the consummate ass kisser as we all know. Other than that it’s been pretty quiet. I’ve had nothing to do but keep the odd plague from happening down here, if possible, or help out the occasional human just so they keep the faith. Honestly I’m glad I have you to hang around. I’ve spent so much on Earth, Heaven’s awfully boring anymore.”

“So happy I have a use,” she replied in a good-natured sarcastic manner. 

“Hey now. None of that. You know you have been a great friend and protector for a certain little supernatural family.” Raphael was speaking around a mouthful of bread, which Lailah wished he wouldn’t do.

“Please stop that. Have some manners.”

“Sorry. Not used to this you know.”

“I know, but it’s time to learn. I mean you’re only millennia old.” Lailah was still stealing glances towards the window.

“Let it go.”

“I just want to know how it went with Adam.”

“You will, now stop it and eat. This stuff’s pretty good even though we made it.” He offered her a piece of garlic bread.

Smiling she took it from him and tasted it. It wasn’t too bad considering they didn’t have Crowley’s level of skill in the kitchen, and he didn’t resort to miracles unless he was short on time. It was a source of pride. 

“We should go out tonight. Get your mind off things,” Raphael suggested, cutting through her thoughts. “It’s not like you didn’t have a stressful part to play in this and I still don’t like you getting too stressed. It affects your mental state.”

“I fought off Silver before she figured things out. It’s not like I was battling against half of Hell.” Lailah was digging into her pasta, thinking it was a bit overcooked, but not bad.

“And I’m in charge of your mental health, so listen to me.”

With a sigh, she nodded and ate silently. Everything else would have to wait so Raphael could make sure everything was ok. She felt things were fine, but he was in charge as far as this was concerned and she still had episodes once in a while. 

“Ok, then let’s go get ice cream. It’s been a while.”

“Sounds good.”

They ate their meal, having conversation that Raphael kept turned away from Aziraphale, Crowley and Rowan. After cleaning up the dishes, they took a bus to a favourite ice cream shoppe where they both got dark chocolate ice cream on account of having never tried it before. Afterwards, they stood invisible on the balcony of Tate Modern over looking the Thames and Millennial Bridge watching the traffic go by and lights come on around the city.

“Too many cranes around here. It ruins the skyline,” said Raphael.

“It happens. Humans do like to keep building things,” Lailah replied.

“So, what would you say to a bit of a vacation?”

Lailah laughed. “Is that your solution to every problem? If I remember, you dragged Aziraphale on holiday to Wales to get his mind off the split with Crowley.”

“Holiday. Listen to you. Going all English.”

Lailah licked her melting cone, keeping the dark brown ice cream from dripping onto the waffle cone she held. “You don’t have Crowley jumping up your arse when you don’t use the proper dialogue. I think he does it just to be . . . well . . . Crowley . . .”

“It’s more that I think you need to let the family settle in with their new pet and allow Rowan and Adam to form a friendship without you on the sidelines hovering over them,” Raphael said pointedly. “Rowan still needs you as an aunt, but you can’t be there accidentally putting pressure on her right now. Whatever is going to happen needs to evolve organically.”

Lailah shot him an annoyed look, the wind whipping her ponytail around as she turned from the view of London to glare at him. She swallowed the bite of cone she had taken before replying. “I won’t interfere. Have you no faith in me?”

“You worry about her.”

“Of course I worry about her! She’s different!”

“She already has parents who smother her,” Raphael said gently. 

“All right. We can go spend the weekend somewhere while Adam and Rowan meet again. I’ll stay out of the way.”

“Good.”

He looked so self-satisfied as he grinned at her over his half-eaten ice cream cone. They stared out at the city coming to life at night in silence before they moved on to other conversation then eventually went for a stroll in the dark, enjoying the crisp night air together.

~*~*~

Crowley stared down the blue-eyed Sheltie on the couch. Pointing a slender finger at the floor he barked “Down!” followed by “Rowan! Your dog is not going to be on the furniture!”

“Dad, it’s not like she’s going to shed on it or anything.”

Crowley never did get on with animals no matter how hard he tried and this former hellhound was no exception even though it didn’t always act like an animal. It didn’t shed. Or eat. Or require walks. Or anything a normal dog did, but still . . . its presence was not something he enjoyed and only tolerated for Rowan’s sake. He continued to wish she had sent it back. 

“Dogs don’t belong on furniture, even if they behave perfectly, ok? You need to train her.”

Aziraphale approached him from behind, placing a kiss by his ear. “Come on, my dear. Let her work with Silver and I’ll help you get the groceries put away.” With a little coaxing, he got Crowley out of the living room and through the doorway to the kitchen. “We’ve done worse on that couch.” 

“That’s not the point!”

“I know,” said Aziraphale soothingly as he placed the tomatoes in a bowl by the fridge. “The point is you don’t like having a dog around.”

“Hellhound,” corrected Crowley who was not being a help in the slightest. He was in the cabinet, reaching for a couple of wine glasses while deciding on whether this would be a good time for a nice sweet red or dry white wine. 

“And she needs Silver.”

“I know!” Glasses clinked in Crowley’s frustration as he yanked them off their shelves while blindly grabbing a bottle. Wine was wine at this point; it didn’t matter the colour or flavour.

Collapsing into a chair at the kitchen table, he miracled the cork out, pouring out two glasses without asking Aziraphale if he wanted one. The angel left behind the groceries to join him since Crowley was in obvious need of some company. He quietly took a glass, examining the red liquid in it. Sweet wouldn’t be too bad, probably better than dry since they were drinking without food. 

“Rowan!” he called.

“Yes, Papa?”

“Go get your homework done, please!”

“Ok.”

Footsteps faded as she retreated with her room, dog following along faithfully behind her. Aziraphale watched them go. It was early. She would be done with her work by dinner; earlier if she cheated and used a miracle or two. He got on her case about that because she was in school to learn all those human things he and Crowley had to pick up as they went along. He doubted it helped because Crowley was the one home when she got home from school and the demon had no problem turning a blind eye to her doing that. It wasn’t anything serious in his mind.

In her room, Rowan got out her mobile and sent a text.

_Hey_

It took a while, but she got a reply. _Hey what’s up?_

_Doing homework so nothing_

_Me too it’ll be nice when school’s out_

_It’s only February_ 😂

 _I know!!!_ 😅

She smiled at her mobile a while before she answered. It was wonderful to have someone else to talk to like this.

In the kitchen, Crowley was staring into his glass. “What are we going to do? It’s been three days but I can’t get used to the idea of a hellhound in the house. Well . . . former hellhound . . . but what does it matter? Everything is changing. She’s befriended the Antichrist for Hell’s sake!”

“You worry too much, my dear. It’ll be fine. They need this friendship.”

Crowley sank back in his chair. “I know, but . . . a hellhound . . . the Antichrist. She’s going to be influenced by Hell.”

“Neither are Hellish and she has Heavenly influences as well as human ones now. You worry too much, my dear,” Aziraphale soothed. “Oh, I wish I could take you in our room and give you a nice massage. I understand now why parents complain about children eating into their sex lives.”

“Yeah. At least we can put ours out when we want to do things. I’ll do a miracle on her when she goes to bed tonight. I need a massage.” Wilting like a sick plant, Crowley tried his best to give Aziraphale puppy dog eyes. He was never successful on account of having yellow snake eyes. They simply were not built to give pitiful looks. 

For now, a glass of wine or two was going to have to do. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think I'll be able to get one more chapter out of this. It's getting hard to write and I've been getting block a lot lately. I think that's the signal it's time to end it and give this series a rest for a while. I do have another story idea planned, but I'd like to take the time to think on it (and do some other fics, too) before taking it on.


	28. When Love Blooms

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Adam and Rowan grow closer. Aziraphale and Crowley are going to have to learn to accept that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just so ran out of brain cells on this one that I had to end it. I do have other ideas for this 'verse, but I need to get them in order first and rest my brain for a while.

Rowan stood with Adam in the woods of Tadfield. They were alone this time. The Them still got together but it was a little less these days. They were still close and communicated these days a lot by text, but the teenage years had begun and interests moved on from playing in the woods for hours every day. 

“You were right. We did need to grow up, but it’s kind of sad, too,” Adam said as they strolled along. “We don’t play anymore. We talk, go to films and the diners around here. Brian’s interested in a girl and Pepper’s joined a girls’ rugby team now that he mum thinks she’s old enough.”

“It’s for the best.” Sometimes Rowan felt more mature than her years and this was one of those times. “You’re doing the right thing.” 

She reached out to take his hand. Adam looked down at hers like he was going to panic, Rowan about ready to let go again. The last thing she wanted to do was frighten him off. 

“I’m sorry. Is this too forward?” she asked softly, feeling the blush creep across her cheeks and stubbornly decide to stay. 

“No. Not at all. I . . . I’ve just never done this before, yanno?”

“Yeah. Neither have I.”

“We’ll figure it out together,” Adam replied with a smile. “C’mon. Shall we keep walking?”

Hand-in-hand they strolled about the woods with their hellhounds romping along with them. They spoke of future plans, of school, of the antics of Silver and Dog, of parents and rules and friends and everything important to those entering their teen years. 

By the time Rowan had to leave, Adam decided he wanted to do something more than hold hands with her. Maybe one day he’d get up the courage to ask for a kiss. 

~*~*~

Crowley was about ready to lose it. Silver was digging in the flowerbeds again and this time disturbed a bunch of bulbs he had just planted in hopes of spring blooms. Aziraphale found him wishing the mess clean, the bulbs undamaged and ready to use a few demonic miracles to fence the dog out of the beds. He handed Crowley one of the cups of tea he was carrying. 

“Early Grey this time. I wanted a bit of a change,” the angel told Crowley.

“I can live with that, but I’m still having my doubts about living with this hellhound. It’s been over a year now and she finds yet another annoying thing to replace the one Rowan corrected. I can’t do this anymore, angel. That creature is driving me mad.”

Crowley raised his free hand to complete the supernatural fence that would keep Silver out of his precious garden spaces. Miracle completed, he examined his handiwork, satisfied it would hold. He peered out past the orchard where Rowan played fetch with Silver, the dog occasionally bringing back the stick.

“It’s all that dog and Adam now. Her entire life. We’re getting shut out.”

“No, we’re not. She’s growing up and reaching out into the world like she should.” Aziraphale touched Crowley’s arm. “We can’t be the only beings in the world she has. That’s not fair and you know it. You had a conversation with the Almighty about it, remember?”

Crowley just sighed and started walked towards the cottage where they were spending the weekend so Crowley could plant bulbs before winter came. The tulips that grew in the spring would bloom a deep shade of red so dark they would look black. They complimented the white ones planted in honour of Aziraphale and were mingled in the same bed as them. It was symbolic even if Crowley did it subconsciously.

They relaxed on the porch to drink their hot tea looking out upon all they had carefully built over the years. Crowley’s gardens were second to none and the wine Aziraphale made from the various fruits that grew here in the summer was his pride and joy after his book collection. They had partially raised a daughter and overcome many trials and tribulations while living in this very cottage. If the walls could talk, they would have many tales.

“Maybe I don’t want her to grow up.”

“And you all said that would be me.” Aziraphale felt some petty satisfaction at that, but quickly put it aside before he hurt his husband saying such things.

“Oh, you’re having trouble, too. You just won’t admit it,” commented Crowley as he sipped at his tea. “You did good. Earl Grey can be touchy.”

“Thank you.”

“Let’s go out tonight. Maybe I need to forget things for a while.”

Aziraphale agreed smiling sadly at him with hope Crowley would learn how to deal with the new changes occurring lately.

~*~*~

Lailah was out shopping with Rowan again as Rowan was thirteen and shopping was becoming one of her favourite activities. Silver came along with them, her hellhound powers making her unnoticeable to the humans who walked around the shops they visited. Right now Silver was waiting outside a bath products shop, the smell too much for her sensitive canine nose. Inside, Rowan was eyeing a bottle of shampoo that smelled like lavender and rosemary, finally passing it over for a more tropical scent. 

She wore her hair long now, the waves showing through that were inherited in part from both parents. It stayed a lovely shade of coppery blond which she was proud of. It was not a common colour. Now that she was more confident, it got her compliments from both boys and girls at school which she accepted gracefully now. Rowan was growing up whether Crowley or Aziraphale wanted her to or not.

“I just don’t know how to bring it up to them,” she was currently saying to Lailah. “I really do like him and he likes me, but both of them are going to throw a fit.”

“Well, I don’t know . . . I just have friendships but I’m not romantic with anyone and I don’t have any desire for that. I think you three are unique among angels and demons. Let me think on it, ok?”

“Ok.”

“Oh, look at that. That’s a cute little soap.” Lailah picked up a fancy soap carved to look like a daisy. “What is it with humans and making everything into cute little shapes?”

“I don’t know. But you’ll buy it.” Rowan grinned back at her. “You always do.”

“Guilty as charged.” Lailah looked unabashed about it, picking up the soap. “You getting that shampoo?”

“I think so.” 

They walked up to the till to pay.

“You do realize you have quite the team on your side. You have your parents, even though I know you think they meddle anymore. You’ve got me to go to bat for you when needed and you have your Grandmother, who can make your parents see the light if necessary.”

Rowan nodded as she handed over some cash for the shampoo and collected the change in return. She was fidgeting like Aziraphale did when he was nervous. This was not going to be easy. One of her parents would rather she never dated and the other would forever see her as his little girl. Neither one of them wanted her to grow up but neither one of the would admit to that. 

“I’m just going to have to tell them, but can you be there? This is not something I wanna do alone, but not yet. All we’ve done is hold hands. Maybe it won’t go anywhere and we’ll just be friends.”

“Thank you,” said Lailah to the clerk at the till who handed her her bag of soap before turning to Rowan. “Of course I’ll be there. You just tell me when you’re ready.”

~*~*~

“What do you mean you want to kiss her?” asked Pepper. “Don’t drag her into the Patriarchy. We have enough victims to save already.”

Rowan had eventually meshed with the Them, becoming good friends with all of them. She was down there several times a month to visit and spent a lot of time involved in group chats with them. Having friends (and Silver) had greatly improved her mood. The outbursts caused by loneliness had all but gone away, much to her family’s relief. 

“I don’t think you need to worry about Rowan and the Patriarchy or whatever. She’s not really a girl. She’s just one because she wants to be. Dog! Leave that squirrel alone!”

“You can’t date her. She’s not human.” Pepper stopped herself right there because suddenly what she was thinking wasn’t coming out right. “Ok . . . sounds bad but you know what I mean.”

“She is as human as she wants to be, just like me.”

Brian shrugged. “Just go for it if you both want it.” He had a girl he was interested in and she reciprocated. He could see why Adam was suggesting what he was. They were entering that point in their lives when they were starting to feel attraction to others. 

Wensleydale kept quiet. He was a year younger than the others and wasn’t quite to the same point as they were in the development of hormones. 

“I really like her, ok? And I think she likes me in return.” Adam scratched Dog’s ears absently. Why couldn’t they understand? He was more like her than them in the end. “I don’t see any reason why I can’t kiss her.”

“Crowley for one,” Wensleydale finally said quietly. Nobody seemed to hear him and the conversation continued on until they decided to leave their usual stomping grounds to head back into town where Rowan would be waiting for them.

They found her with Crowley and Aziraphale at the ice cream shop. 

“Hello all,” said Aziraphale.

“Hi,” greeted Crowley, although his seemed a little less friendly than his husband’s. 

“Ok, byyyyyyye.” Rowan waved to them, her facial expression hinting that she really wanted them to leave before either one of them did something embarrassing. 

Aziraphale slipped her enough money to buy everyone ice cream cones before he walked out with Crowley. “We’ll be back in a few hours.”

“She could drop the attitude,” muttered Crowley as they headed back to the Bentley to find a nice place around this town for a picnic. A hamper containing a light meal of items like fruits, crackers, cheeses and wine sat in the backseat. 

They found themselves the exact place Anathema and Newt reluctantly burned Agnes’ second manuscript of prophecies and laid out the tartan blanket Aziraphale had brought along to sit on. Crowley was opening the wine while Aziraphale laid out plates and food, both of them enjoying the time outside before summer officially came to an end and colder weather stared to creep in with autumn. Sitting under the tree, they helped themselves to their small feast. Aziraphale tried to keep the conversation off of Rowan and her new friends.

They didn’t notice the man who was walking a small Dachshund approaching them as they drank wine and fed each other grapes. He stopped short of their blanket, annoying Crowley with his interruption. Aziraphale simply gave him a polite smile.

“Excuse me, gentlemen, but is that wine you’re drinking? I normally do not condone the drinking of alcohol outside. It is not a good example to be setting for our village’s children. And I don’t believe I have seen you around here before.”

Crowley blinked. This was the same man he had asked for directions from all those years ago while searching for the airbase. Of course, the Bentley had been full of smoke at the time and he hadn’t been wearing the sunglasses, so it seemed the man didn't recognize him. Thanks to Adam stopping time, the man himself only looked a year or so older than when Crowley had last laid serpentine eyes on him.

“Are people not allowed to come to the countryside for a nice picnic?” he asked pointedly.

_Crowley!_

_Angel, this man can mind his own business._

“We don’t mind visitors. I am just asking you as the neighborhood watch to please put the wine away.”

“I’m sure a little responsible drinking won’t seem amiss, my good sir,” said Aziraphale in his most pleasant tones. “Unless there is a law against it, then we will put it away.”

“No law. I just feel it’s not an appropriate activity for outdoors where children can see it.”

“Well, we do appreciate your concern, but we’re not overindulging,” replied Aziraphale. "I doubt responsible imbibing will negatively affect children." 

The man’s face turned red as he tried to contain his growing anger. “This is a perfectly respectable village . . .”

“Shove off,” said Crowley, giving his words some backing with a bit of demonic will. There was only so much he would put up with especially when it interfered with precious time with his beloved angel. 

The man suddenly faced forward, looking straight ahead of him with a blank stare in his eyes. The dog gazed up at him with a whine. “Well, it was nice to meet you. Have a good day.” He marched off back to the path he was previously walking the dog on and would come to several metres down it with no recollection of his exchange with Aziraphale and Crowley.

“Well, he hasn’t changed since I asked him for directions all those years ago,” Crowley commented. “I could feel his desire to tell me my car was on fire. He was just _itching_ to say something. I found it rather amusing despite the circumstances.”

“You asked him for directions too? So did we,” Aziraphale said with a chuckle. “Oh dear, I wonder what he thought of the entire situation. A flaming car and a glowing scooter carrying Madam Tracy and Sergeant Shadwell, odd couple that they are . . .” He said it as if the blue glow around the scooter from his miracle was not even worth considering.

“No wonder he doesn’t want alcohol around the children. After all that mess he’s probably wondering if he killed off too many brain cells drinking his youth away. Explains his stuffy attitude, too.”

“We’ve come along way since then.” Aziraphale laid his head on Crowley’s shoulder. “It was fifteen years ago now . . .”

“Don’t remind me. We’ve mostly raised a child in that time. Five more years and she’s considered an adult by human standards.” Crowley sounded distantly sad as he grabbed a piece of cheese to nibble.

“You want another?”

“The one we have wasn’t supposed to exist.”

“I know. But it would be nice if we could be like humans and have descendants.”

“Oh, angel . . . don’t start wishing for what you can’t have. We’re lucky to have one offspring.”

A few miles away, their offspring was having a very different conversation involving the future.

“I don’t know what I’m going to do someday when it comes time to decide on a job and all that,” Adam said, slouching in his chair.

They had all gathered in Brian’s living room while his parents were at work now that they were slowly outgrowing their version of Eden. Hogback Wood was Paradise for younger children and they were maturing beyond their former imaginative games, putting that creative energy to other uses, usually involving social media and video games. 

“Wensleydale’s going to end up in accounting like his dad,” Pepper teased. 

“It’s a good career,” he replied, offended.

“Maybe environmental engineering or something,” said Brian. “It’s going to be up to us to clean up the Earth and environmental engineers work on problems like that.” He held a controller in his hands that he wasn’t using to actually play video games. They had all gotten caught up in a conversation about the future.

“What about you, Pepper?” asked Rowan.

“My mom finally made Lecturer at the university. She spent years waiting tables and being a secretary and other such jobs before she got it. I don’t think I’ll get a degree in sociology like her. I want to be on the Olympic Rugby team. Then form a women’s league. A _real_ one, not just a national league that plays other countries.”

Rowan picked at her jeans. “I don’t know what I’m going to do. My lessons with my parents include how to protect the Earth since that’s what they and Lailah do.”

She felt a little lost among humans. She lived among them but wasn’t one. She existed between worlds still and Adam helped but the Them were a reminder of what she wasn’t, for all they were good friends. Adam reached over from his chair and grasped her hand with a smile.

“We’ll figure it out. We’ve got plenty of time before our A Levels.”

“Would you help us do good on them?” asked Brian. “Use your powers so we know all the right answers.”

“That’s cheating,’ said Pepper. “And they’d really look into it if all four of us got every answer right.”

“How about enough so we can get into any uni we want?”

“No! Leave her alone about it.”

“It’s ok.” Rowan ruffled Silver’s fur as the dog jumped around her panting. She always seemed to know when her master was in a depressed mood.

“Let’s go for a walk, guys. We’re not here to ask Rowan for favours because she has powers.” Adam stood up.

They trudged through town – five kids and two dogs, trying to find something to do that didn’t involve a screen of some kind. They had reached that age.

“I want to learn to swordfight,” said Brian suddenly.

“Yeah, that would be great,” added Pepper excitedly. “ _Real_ sword fighting, not that fencing stuff. Remember when we’d play pirates?”

“Yeah, good times.” Adam smiled at the thought, suddenly sad they were all now growing up. 

“Maybe we should go into the woods and play a game of tag or something. Fight aliens. Be on a pirate ship again.” Rowan was looking slyly at Adam as she said it. She could see the sadness on his face and didn’t like it. “Getting older doesn’t mean we stop having fun, right?”

Adam smiled at her. “Right.”

Crowley and Aziraphale found them later fighting badly with wooden swords as Dog and Silver did their own thing, which involved a lot of chasing each other around while yapping excitedly. They stopped on the ridge before the children saw them and watched for several minutes as the kids enacted their game, laughing the entire time. 

“Their footwork is all wrong,” commented Aziraphale.

“They’re human children, not angels in the Army of the Divine.”

“I was the leader of a platoon, you know.”

“And you’re not a fighter, Aziraphale. They don’t need to be, either.” Crowley pulled him close, kissing him on the cheek. 

“Hi, Crowley! Hi Aziraphale!” Adam ran towards them waving. “Time for Rowan to go already?”

“I’m afraid so,” said Aziraphale. “You five have gotten quite a bit of time together in. We’ve been down here six hours.”

“It’s not like you lot don’t spend until midnight texting each other. I know what you’re up to.” Crowley put out his arms for a hug from his daughter. Just a reminder to Adam about the hierarchy here. Crowley carried her for nine months then gave birth to her. He was damned if he was going to lose her to the former Antichrist.

He bent to give her a kiss on the top of her head, allowing his glasses to slip enough he could glare with serpentine eyes at the boy who wanted to steal away his daughter’s heart. Adam, who had seen those yellow eyes on full display fifteen years ago, remained unperturbed but still got the message.

_Crowley, really that’s enough now._

_It’s never enough._

Aziraphale sighed and gave up. There would be no point talking to Crowley when he was in this kind of mood. There never was; one had to patiently wait until he was in a better frame of mind. 

They stood conversing with the children for quite some time, or at least Aziraphale did while Crowley occasionally made a monosyllabic comment. Finally he was able to tear his husband and daughter away to head for home by reminding them meaningfully they had an hour or more drive ahead of them. Rowan waved her goodbyes and headed off for the Bentley with her family while the Them watched.

“I wonder what’s with Crowley?” asked Pepper. “Aziraphale doesn’t seem to mind us hanging out with Rowan but Crowley does.”

“He’s just protective. I read his mind at the airbase and probably freaked him out, but I know . . . that’s rude and I shouldn’t have done it.”

“Coo! I wish I could read people’s minds.” Pepper was impressed.

“No, you don’t. Especially Crowley’s mind. He’s not a bad guy, but Hell made him do a lot of messing around with people. He’s got some memories he doesn’t want to know about and I didn’t either.”

“Yeah, I imagine being a demon isn’t that much fun.” Brian pulled out his mobile to answer a text from his love interest.

“I don’t think Aziraphale agrees with Heaven, either,” added Wensleydale as they started back towards home.

“No, they’re different from the rest of ‘em. Grandmother told me that. They’re meant to protect Earth and so am I and Rowan.”

The Them looked at him for a moment, seeing a boy who was now showing the extra fifteen years he had lived. Deep down inside they felt it, too. That maturity that went well beyond their current ages and reminded them on a subconscious level they should have grown up by now if Adam hadn’t stopped time. Looking at each other, they nodded.

“We’ll help you, too. Anyway we can,” said Pepper.

~*~*~

Rowan ran to her room as soon as they got back to the flat above the bookshop, giving Lailah a quick hello before taking off down the hall, Silver at her heels. “I gotta get some homework done. Due tomorrow. Let me know when dinner’s ready.”

“What is that all about?” she asked Crowley and Aziraphale when the pair entered the door. 

She was chopping up veggies to make a simple stir fry. Crowley was immediately in the kitchen beside her to check on what she was doing. She frowned at him peering over her shoulder at the quality of the slices lying on the cutting board.

“I don’t need supervision.”

“I’m the only one here who knows how to cook properly.”

“Anyway,” said Aziraphale with emphasis as he hung up his coat. “Rowan forgot she had a project due tomorrow and I told her she needed to get as much of it done before dinner. And Crowley? Play nice, my dear. We’re not going to ever learn if you don’t let us have any experience with trial and error.”

“Don’t come crawling to me when you mess it up.” Crowley marched out of the kitchen to sit on the couch where he pulled out his mobile to entertain himself with.

Lailah managed to get dinner perfect and even Crowley gave her compliments on it as he nosily looked it over while setting the table. She pushed him away, half-jokingly and half with a grumble because he had to come critique things. He had even peeked in the rice cooker to see how she did with that. Rice was one of those things she had some trouble with until she broke down and bought that cooker. Crowley had never heard of such a thing, but he had cooking even the most difficult things down very well. Something that did it automatically like that would be akin to cheating.

“Rice looks good, but you’re taking that thing when you go. It’s not going to sit here crowding up my kitchen.”

“Heaven forbid,” she replied as she ladled the stir fry into a bowl. “You could make yourself helpful and get the rice on the table.”

“I already set it.”

“I’ll do it,” volunteered Aziraphale. “I wouldn’t want my husband to overtax himself.”

Listening in her bedroom to the adults getting dinner on the table, Rowan was deciding if her idea was worth the risk. Yes, it definitely was. Taking a moment to calm the butterflies in her stomach, she snapped her fingers and appeared in Adam’s bedroom an hour or so away in Tadfield.

“Rowan?” he asked.

“I can’t stay long, but there’s something I wanted to do . . . want to do more than just hold hands.”

He understood immediately, getting up from his desk where he was idly doodling on his homework while he daydreamed. Approaching her, he took her hands in his and grinned at her nervously. She smiled back at him, her eyes flicking downward as she blushed.

They leaned forward hand-in-hand, nervous, eyes never leaving each other. Their lips actually meeting surprised both of them for a moment and they stood there not sure what to do after that. Eventually the actual kiss started as awkward as it was at first. It took a second for Adam and Rowan to get the hang of how something so simple yet still so complex worked, but they did and soon leaned into it. It was an affectionate, innocent kiss – the kiss of the young. Both pulled back with a smile knowing that they would definitely be doing that again.

Rowan about laughed out loud as they did separate. All she could think about at this important first is how much of a fit Crowley was going to have when he found out. “I’ll talk to you later, ok?”

“Yes, definitely,” Adam said, feeling a bit shocked and very happy. “Text me after dinner?”

“Of course.” 

With a snap of her fingers, she returned to her own bedroom in the flat above the bookshop. Silver was waiting for her on the bed, head cocked to one side when she returned. Ruffling the dog’s ears, she laughed again as Aziraphale called her for dinner. Life was going to get a lot more interesting whether her parents were ready for that or not.

**Author's Note:**

> [My tumblr](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/the-bentley) if you wish to follow or message me. I have resisted getting Twitter so far. I'm not really much of a social media person.


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